Concealing Grace (The Grace Series Book 1) (15 page)

“I am Carl Robbins,” one of them said, but the man in black had already recognized him. Following his leader’s example Jeremiah Brooks identified himself, too.

“I have come to warn you not to go home by the river road,” the man in black told them. “The Klan has been following you both, and they are lying in wait for you there this very night.”

“We’ve heard about you,” Carl Robbins said. “You’ve been sending our people away. They say you’re from the Underground Railroad.”

“I’m not.”

“Where are our people you’ve sent away?” Carl Robbins asked.

“They’re making new lives for themselves in the north. I strongly suggest that you, Mr. Robbins, and you, Mr. Brooks, let me help you and your families do the same. If not, the Klan will continue to pursue you.” He went on to tell them about the cabins at Bent Oak Manor, but neither Carl Robbins nor Jeremiah Brooks would agree to go. This didn’t surprise the man in black. He expected it. Both Carl Robbins and Jeremiah Brooks held important leadership roles in the black community. Losing them would be detrimental to their people. Silently he applauded their courage and their fortitude. The only thing left for him to do was ensure they understood the substantial danger they were in, and encourage them to take precautions. He told them if at any time they changed their minds, the cabins would be open to them.

“Why are ya doin’ dis for us?” Jeremiah Brooks asked.

“I don’t like the Klan,” the man in black said simply.

“Who are you?” Carl Robbins asked.

“It would be better for you not to know.” To the rest of the group, the man in black said, “I don’t know whether any of you were planning to go home by way of the river road tonight, but I suggest you do not. The Klan won’t care if they lynch the wrong men.” He nodded politely to each of them and said, “Good evening, gentlemen. I will be praying for you.” Then he turned on his heel and disappeared into the trees.

Not long thereafter, from where he waited, he watched the group break apart. His sights remained fixed on Carl Robbins and Jeremiah Brooks. It was the two of them he followed. When they turned off the main road, relief coursed through him. They’d decided to take his advice after all. For this night, his job was done.

The man in black turned Midnight back toward the river road. Once he was on it, he slowed down so he could take his time scanning ahead for signs of the dopey costumed figures. Eventually he saw a flicker of light from within an upcoming corn field. To Midnight, he whispered, “Now, boy. Let’s fly.”

Man and horse tore down the road at top speed. As soon as they noticed him, the ghostly figures hidden a few feet into the line of tall corn stalks began to hustle, staggering and stumbling through the corn and into each other. They created such a commotion, even from the distance, and above the noise of Midnight’s pounding hooves, the man in black could hear them. They hadn’t expected either Carl Robbins or Jeremiah Brooks to be on horseback, or approaching at such an accelerated pace. Under his kerchief, the man in black smirked. Drawing his revolver, he fired randomly into the air.

He was almost upon them, still watching them clamor around, when he heard one of them clearly shout, “The spook!”

More shouts followed, “It’s the spook! Get him!”

“The spook! After him, men!”

“Holy cow, it’s the spook!”

Abruptly, the man in black turned off the road and went racing through a field of cabbage. The loud pops of gunfire behind him didn’t surprise him. What did was the amount of it. It sounded as if almost every one of them were armed. There were horses following him, too, but he wasn’t worried about outrunning them.

There was no reason for him to have goaded the Klan the way he did. A diversion wasn’t necessary. Their intended victims were safely away. He did it because he enjoyed watching their panicked fumbling. As he leaned low in the saddle and soared, he laughed.

It wasn’t long before he was at the creek behind Herlin’s cabin. While watching Midnight dip his nose into the fresh spring water, the man in black ran his hand over the sweaty horse’s well-muscled flanks. “Thank you for a great ride, my friend,” he murmured, and then without turning around, he said, “Good evening, Herlin.”

“Major, I heard shots. A lot of shots. Are you alright? Did everything go as planned?”

“Like a charm,” the major said, chuckling inwardly. “Although I do believe they’re finally realizing they need to arm themselves better.” The darkness didn’t hide Herlin’s anxiety-laden features. “You worry too much, Herlin. I’ve told you before, if they can’t see me, they won’t hit me.”

Herlin didn’t say anything. The man in black went on to tell him about his encounter with Carl Robbins and Jeremiah Brooks, and as they’d anticipated, how both men refused to relocate. In the end, however, Herlin was still frowning.

“Here’s something that should make you smile, Herlin.” The man in black grinned. “The Klan has given me a name.”

“What’s that?”

“They call me ‘the spook’.”

Jessica Emerson’s wedding was on a clear, late September afternoon, in her home church with Reverend Nash presiding. Luther, her beloved father, in a finely tailored tuxedo, with his hair neatly combed and his beard freshly trimmed, gave her away. His smile as he kissed her cheek, raised her veil and handed her over to the man who would be her future, was solemn, but proud. Jessica had worried she might cry, but she was entirely too happy to cry. It was all she could do to suppress her smile. In minutes the tall, debonair man beside her—Captain Jonathan Kinsley—would be her husband.

During the ceremony, when it was time for the exchange of rings, Reverend Nash asked them to turn and face each other. The ring Jon slid onto her finger was a simple gold band, but Jessica wasn’t disappointed. It fit together perfectly with her engagement ring. Anything more elaborate would have detracted from that exquisite piece of jewelry. She was tickled, too, that Jon had purchased a gold band for himself. Many married men didn’t wear a ring at all. He’d given his band to Emily, to give to Jessica, so she could place it on his finger.

Standing there, hand in hand with Jon, gazing into his eyes, she listened to Reverend Nash’s moving commentary on what the rings represented—the unbreakable circle of life, a husband and wife’s commitment to each other, their faithfulness and their unending love. She was certain it was the most wonderful moment of her life, and she was the most fortunate girl in the world. The beautiful estate—Bent Oak Manor—was now her home.

Over the last week, she’d been there every day. While Jon was outside working with his horses or off in town conducting business, she played that wonderful piano. At first she pretended she didn’t see the curious eyes sneaking peeks at her through the opened windows. The second day three of the children’s little heads poked around the door. By the end of the week, the whole group—eleven in all—were in the parlor with her.

Playing for others usually made Jessica anxious, but playing for the children didn’t. If anything, seeing the awe on their little faces delighted her immeasurably. She didn’t mind that Ditter, Ruth and Martha were listening in either. She figured this out because every day one of them was there to lightly knock and let her know the captain was returning to the house.

Jessica tried to get the children to stay. She was certain Jon wouldn’t mind, but they always scattered and were nowhere to be seen when he came through the door. It was just as well. She didn’t want Jon to hear her practicing. At least, she didn’t want him to hear her practicing the Chopin étude.

“Captain, you may kiss your bride,” Reverend Nash said.

A blush rose in Jessica’s cheeks, but she supposed this was due to being kissed in front of her father and brother. She was used to getting kisses from Jon. Every day this week he escorted her home, and every day at her front door he kissed her good night. Those kisses, like the wedding kiss, were brief and rather chaste. They hadn’t shared another of those heart-stopping kisses, like the one after the opera. But, tonight they would…

After the ceremony, their guests traveled in a caravan of coaches and buggies the short distance to Bent Oak Manor for the reception. An incredible feast had been prepared. Neither Luther nor Jon spared any expense. The wedding cake, the
pièce
de
résistance
as far as Jessica was concerned, was chocolate with white sugar icing, and all three tiers of it were decorated with navy blue and green flowers and ribbons. The eight-piece orchestra Jon hired had set their music stands up in the corner of the parlor, near the piano. For their first dance together, Jon and Jessica waltzed. Shyly Jessica smiled at the applause from their guests. Next she danced with her father, who held her close and whispered well wishes for her future in her ear. He told her how much he liked her new husband and said he knew Jon would make her happy. Jessica couldn’t have agreed more.

Not long thereafter, she approached her brother, who was standing by himself in the corner. “I saw you sitting with Emily in the dining room,” she said to him. The sudden color that splashed across Trent’s cheekbones prompted her to tease, “Perhaps we will have another wedding in the near future.”

Trent’s response was to take a long swig from the drink he held.

“I am very happy for you, Trent,” Jessica said. “I know Emily is thrilled with the attention you’re paying her today. Will you ask her to dance?”

“Maybe.”

Trent’s guarded concession made her grin. She was just about to point out Emily, who was across the room with Stephanie, but Trent spoke first.

“Looks like your
husband
is having a good time.”

Jon was with Reverend Nash, William Hughes and two other friends of her father’s, Arnold Whistler and Edward Murphy, and they all seemed quite merry. Well, they all seemed merry except for Reverend Nash. He was the only one of them not smiling.

Even so, Jessica was pleased to see Jon getting along so well with others from the neighborhood. It still saddened her that he had no family. Their only guests today were friends of her family. There was no one close to him to share this, one of the most important days of his life.

“I still don’t trust him,” Trent muttered.

Jessica’s smile instantly disappeared. Harshly she whispered, “Be quiet, Trent! This is my day and Jon is my husband, and I’m not going to let you spoil it!”

“He has you wrapped around his little finger. You’re so besotted, you’re completely blind. He’s got you brainwashed, Jessie.”

“Shut up, Trent!” With both hands, Jessica shoved him, but she was determined not to make a scene at her own wedding, especially not with her bad-mannered brother. Trying to hold her temper in check, she murmured roughly, “Can’t you, for once, think of someone other than yourself? Can’t you at least try not to ruin something that’s important to me? Right now I really don’t like you!”

With that, head held high, she flounced off, purposely in the direction of her new husband.

Seeing her approach, Jon held out his hand to her and said, “Ah, my lovely bride! Gentlemen, please excuse us.”

“No, please. I don’t want to interrupt. I just wanted to say ‘hello’.”

Arnold Whistler was the first to address Jessica. He and his brother owned a fairly prosperous hog farm. Arnold was the younger of the two of them, in his mid-thirties and unmarried. The brother wasn’t nearly as social as Arnold. He rarely left their farm, but Arnold was a frequent companion of her father’s at the tavern. Jessica didn’t know him well enough to like or dislike him, but she did feel a little sorry for him. He was overweight and always seemed to have a lingering odor of pig about his person. With his wide, ruddy complexion and turned up nose, he even sort of resembled a pig.

He said, “We were just discussing the problems in the neighborhood brought about by the number of colored who refuse to move on. The crime around here has become outrageous and the colored are to blame. They’ve become a menace to our society. But, I suppose, Mrs. Kinsley, on a day such as this, we should be discussing only pleasant things.”

“Quite right,” Jon interjected. “This is business for another day. Important business, and a problem for which a solution must be found, as I’m sure we all agree. However, now is definitely not the time.” He turned to Jessica. “Sweetheart, may I interest you in some punch?”

“Yes, that would be nice.” She avoided looking at the others by smiling faintly to Reverend Nash, who still appeared rather grim. “I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves and have had plenty to eat.”

“This is the best wedding I’ve been to in years,” Edward Murphy spoke up, rubbing his paunch contentedly.

“Yes, thank you, Jessie, dear. Oh! I do apologize, I should be addressing you as Mrs. Kinsley now.” This came from the soft-spoken William Hughes, who threw her a fatherly smile. “I guess you will always be a little girl to me.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hughes. Jon, shall we get that glass of punch?”

The comments Trent made about Jon had caused Jessica’s ire to rise. The ones made by Arnold Whistler only heightened it. Colored people seemed to be the only thing her father and his friends wanted to talk about, or rather complain about. She had to consciously force herself to take a deep breath to keep her temper from getting the better of her. Needing to get away from them as soon as possible, she turned away, and found herself pulling on Jon’s hand. He wasn’t following her. He was whispering something to the others, something Jessica didn’t quite catch, but what she did hear she didn’t like.

Once they were fully out of earshot of the guests, she asked, “What did you say back there?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, really. I just told them someday we’ll get rid of all the niggers even if it kills us. Come, my dear, let’s get that drink for you.”

Jessica said nothing as Jon led her to the dining room where the elaborate champagne punch bowl was set up. For someone who she’d thought perceptive, he didn’t seem to pick up on how appalled she was. He smiled as he handed her a glass, and then he suggested they go back to mingle with their guests. Jessica told him to go ahead without her. She needed to momentarily excuse herself, but it was a lie.

Watching him walk away, she thought of how curt he was when speaking to his servants, of how rude he’d been to the children in the peach orchard, and of how afraid of him they were. She thought of the awful condition of the housing he provided, and his implication that he would not have helped the children at the fair if they’d been colored. She thought of Trent’s endless disparagements and she found herself blinking repeatedly. Something in her heart began to hurt.

Reminding herself she wouldn’t let anything ruin this day, she took a hearty sip of her champagne punch, as if the drink would help her forget. She’d misunderstood Jon. She was certain of it. He really was everything she wanted him to be, and everything she believed he was. Trent was wrong about him. She thought of how much he cared for his horses, and of how kind and generous he was with her. Then, after refilling her glass, she decided to seek out Emily and Stephanie. With them she could cloud her head talking of the mundane things in life—fashion, decorating houses and being in love.

As she stepped into the parlor, she saw Trent and Emily dancing. Since Trent had no hand to hold hers with, Emily kept her arm dangling by her side. They did look a little odd. Still, Jessica could tell by their expressions they were enjoying themselves, and that was enough to bring a smile to her face.

Turning, she almost collided with Reverend Nash. She would have had he not caught her and steadied her. He was so tall, even taller than Jon.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He smiled. “I must be on my way. But I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Yes, thank you. Thank you for everything you did for us today.”

Jessica took his hand, and for the longest moment his eyes held hers. He didn’t let go of her hand either. His hold was warm and engulfing, the same way it was after Sunday services. She had the distinct feeling he was trying to convey some message, something he couldn’t say in words. Inside she began to feel the same thing she did in the church—they were somehow magically connected.

Within that spellbinding place, he said quietly, “Keep faith, Jessica. Remember, God is always with you. He will be your strength.”

“Yes, I’ll remember.”

“And anytime you need a friend,” he murmured, “I am here for you.”

* * *

Jessica’s new bedroom was an incredible space, at least three times larger than her room at her father’s home. The walls had been painted a dark forest green and the hardwood flooring was covered by a plush, oriental carpet. Sheer canopied curtains were tied back at each post of the four-poster bed. With its cream, goose down comforter and numerous puffed up pillows it looked even more comfortable than the big bed in the Nashville hotel. All of the intricately carved, cherry wood furniture looked brand new. There was a vanity to the left of the hallway entrance and a matching dresser on the wall to the right. Yesterday her belongings were brought from her old home. Martha and Ruth did the unpacking. The only thing they allowed her to do was tell them how she wanted the empty drawers and closets arranged.

Two lamps had been lit for her, one on the wall beside the door and the other on the opposite wall by the head of the bed. The dim lighting cast flickering shadows throughout the room. The whole atmosphere was cozy and inviting, and seemed like the perfect setting for what was to come. After the last of their guests finally departed, Jon said she should relax and make herself at home. He would be up to see her shortly.

With Martha’s help, she changed into the almost transparent silk nightgown given to her as a gift by a giggling Emily. Stephanie had given her one, too, but it was so risqué, Jessica was too embarrassed to let Martha see it.

While brushing her hair, Martha said, “Ya haf da mos’ beautiful hair, miss.”

Jon, Jessica realized, had never seen her hair down.

After turning down the bed, Martha gathered up Jessica’s wedding dress and petticoats to take them to launder. Quietly she departed, leaving Jessica alone.

Still seated at the vanity, Jessica stared at her reflection. The first time she’d seen her bedroom was the day Jon gave her the tour of the house. That day she felt awkward, but tonight she didn’t. This, she supposed, was due in part to the quite silly discourse she shared with Emily and Stephanie at the wedding reception, and perhaps because she had a little more champagne punch than she should have. Tonight she would experience something she’d been yearning to experience for a long time. Nerves were bubbling through her, but they weren’t nerves of fear. They were nerves of excitement. The only question that remained was how long would Jon keep her waiting?