Concealing Grace (The Grace Series Book 1) (28 page)

“Nowhere. We’re finished. That actually took much less time than I thought it would. We can go home now.”

Herlin just stared at her.

“What’s the matter, Herlin?” Jessica chuckled. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Come on, let’s go.”

They hadn’t gone far down the road when Herlin said, “Not a ghost, Miss Jessica. An angel.”

Very pleased with what had transpired at the lumber office, Jessica couldn’t stop smiling. “Herlin,” she said, “we made a good team back there.”

Herlin said, “Yes, Miss Jessica, we sure did.”

* * *

Jessica was both hopeful and fearful about going to church Sunday morning. Because Herlin had driven them in the coach the week before, she assumed he would again this week, so she was surprised to find the buggy parked in front of the house. Herlin was nowhere to be seen. Jon said something about it being a mild day for November, and he would be driving them, but Jessica was barely listening. She didn’t want to talk to him anyway. Her mind was filled with other concerns.

She hadn’t seen Reverend Nash since her visit to the parsonage and she needed to be assured his injuries were healing. She also wondered whether Reverend Amos and his parishioners would be in attendance. As much as she hoped the colored people would come, she worried about the repercussions Reverend Nash might be subjected to if they did. Even so, the moment she saw there were no colored people gathered on the lawn, her heart sank. Reverend Nash wasn’t present either.

As usual, she and Jon joined William Hughes and her father. Trent wasn’t with them. Luther told them he went to pick up Emily. This tickled Jessica to no end, but her happiness on her brother and Emily’s behalf was short-lived.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Stupid Yankee!” William Hughes exclaimed.

A group of colored people, much larger in number than ever before, were walking up the road toward the church. There was no mistaking the leader of the group, but Reverend Amos wasn’t who immediately captured Jessica’s attention. Herlin, Martha, Ditter and Ruth were among them.

Jessica’s first thought was that she hadn’t realized they attended Reverend Amos’s church. But of course they would. Reverend Amos’s church was the closest colored church to Bent Oak Manor. That meant the rest of Jon’s servants were without a place to worship as well. She’d lived at the manor for two months. She couldn’t believe she’d been so obtuse! At the same time she felt great pride in Herlin, Martha, Ditter and Ruth. She was glad they were there. That is, she was glad until her husband spoke.

“God damn it!” Jon barked. “Excuse me, gentlemen, Sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

While Jon purposely strode across the lawn toward the road, Herlin, Martha, Ditter and Ruth separated themselves somewhat from the rest of their group.

Loudly enough for everyone in the proximity of the church to hear him, Jon ordered, “Turn around! Now!”

Reverend Amos intervened, “Sir, excuse me, but I don’t think it’s any of your bus—”

“This is entirely my business!” Jon cut him off. “Those four work for me. If they step one foot in this church, I will beat them and then I will fire them. It’s bad enough we have to put up with the rest of you!”

At that moment Reverend Nash came striding out of the church. Jessica was sure his sudden appearance was because he heard the commotion from inside. Right away, she noticed he looked much better. The stitches had been removed from above his eye, leaving a harsh scar, but the rest of his bruises had faded considerably. His movements certainly were no longer gingerly. Jessica had to hurry to keep up with him as she followed him across the yard.

Herlin was staring at the ground. To Jon he said, “We’s sorry, suh. We’s goin’.”

“You have every right to stay,” Reverend Amos said.

“Captain, what’s the problem?” Reverend Nash asked.

Jon raised his arm and pointed an accusing finger. “Those are my niggers and I will not have them in my church. I may have no say in what the rest of you nappy headed creatures do, but I won’t have this!”

“Captain, I was under the impression slavery ended years ago,” Reverend Nash said evenly. Jessica couldn’t fathom how he remained so calm and collected.

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “You’re absolutely right, Reverend.” Then, turning to Herlin, Martha, Ditter and Ruth, crudely he asked, “Will you be attending this church today?”

“No, sir.” Ditter said.

“No, suh,” Herlin echoed.

Martha and Ruth said nothing, but they were both wringing their hands.

“Captain,” Reverend Nash reasoned, “I’m sure you recall their church was burned. They have no place to go to worship. Don’t you agree they have the right to praise our Lord as much as we do?”

“I don’t give a damn!” Jon’s scowl remained on Herlin, Martha, Ditter and Ruth. “Go on! Get! Get out of here!”

“Perhaps, Captain,” Reverend Nash said, “it would be better if you went home and let them stay. Come back next Sunday once you’ve calmed down.”

“You’re kicking me out of my church?” Jon fumed. “How dare you!”

“The doors of this church are open to all men, no matter what color their skin may be. But the church is a place of peace, not malice, Captain, and you are obviously upset. If you like, I will be happy to come by the manor after services today and pray with you.”

“You have got to be kidding me, Nash! What kind of bullshit are you spewing now? You’re as bad as these…” Jon made a sound in his throat, like he was gathering spit, a sound that intoned utter disgust. “…God damned monkeys!” Raising his voice, he threatened, “You’ll pay for this, Reverend! You’ll be sorry when you see how your offerings diminish without my weekly contributions!” Then, without taking his eyes from Reverend Nash, Jon reached out and said tersely, “Come, Jessica. We no longer belong to this church.”

“No,” Jessica murmured.

Jon spun to her. “What did you say? We’re going home.”

He grabbed for her hand, but Jessica was too fast for him. She put both arms behind her back. “I said no. I’m going to stay.”

“Jessica, this is not the time for games. We’re not welcome here. Let’s go,” Jon said.

“You’re the one not welcome,” she told him quietly.

“Miss Jessica, we’s goin’,” Herlin interjected. “We’s sorry, Cap’n, suh. Dis won’t happen agin.” Together with Martha, Ditter and Ruth, he turned around and hastily walked away.

Reverend Nash called after them, “Please stay!”

Herlin glanced back briefly. “We needs our jobs, suh.”

The smug look on Jon’s face made Jessica want to hit him.

“It seems you’ve gotten your way, Captain,” Reverend Nash said. “Will you be attending church this morning after all?”

Jon squinted. “Not if that
boy
is preaching.”

“Well then, shall I come by the manor after services today?”

“Don’t bother. I don’t need your kind of prayers!” Jon spat.

“The Lord can only help those who want to be helped,” Reverend Nash said.

With an exasperated roll of his eyes, Jon held his hand out to Jessica again and said firmly, “Let’s go.”

“No,” Jessica retorted meekly. “I enjoyed Reverend Amos’s sermon before, and I would like to hear him speak again.”

“Jessica!” Jon barked, but he caught himself, lowered his voice and continued, “My dear, don’t kid yourself. He’s an idiot nigger. He has no idea what he’s talking about. Come along.”

Jessica didn’t realize Trent and Emily had arrived until she heard Trent’s voice. “I’ll bring Jessie home. I think she and Emily would like a chance to visit with each other.”

Her father glared briefly at Trent before saying, “Jessie, you go on home with your husband.”

In the end, Jessica did go home with Jon. From the buggy, she looked back. Reverend Nash still stood on the lawn. He was staring after them. Even from the distance she knew exactly what he was trying to convey to her—the same thing he said to her every Sunday, “I am here for you.”

Winter weather hit the Tennessee valley unusually hard with the first snowfall of the season at the beginning of the month. It was only a dusting, but it was bitterly cold. Ditter quietly slipped into the parlor to add more wood to the fire, and Jessica looked up from the piano. “Thank you, Ditter. It is getting chilly in here. My fingers don’t want to work anymore.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.” Ditter smiled.

Jessica grinned in return. Her relationships with the servants, mostly Herlin, Martha, Ditter and Ruth, had improved dramatically over the last week. This Jessica attributed to her asking if she could join them in the kitchen for evening meals. Even though they said they wouldn’t mind, she knew because of her position as mistress of the manor, they couldn’t refuse. Initially she worried she would be imposing. It didn’t take more than a few days, however, for her worry to fade. They seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed theirs. She cherished the opportunity to get to know them and to learn about their lives.

They had all been former slaves. Martha told Jessica the story of how, after she and Herlin married, their owners would not allow them to live together. She also heard about Herlin being sold during the war. For two years Herlin and Martha didn’t see one another at all. But they’d made a promise, and arranged a predetermined meeting spot. After the war, they found each other there, in front of the capital building in Nashville.

Ruth and Ditter had both been house servants, which explained their more refined speech. They’d been married for twenty-four years. Ruth said they were fortunate to have never been separated. She also shared the story of how they came to be raising Jacob and Chelsea. Jacob and Chelsea were their grandchildren—the children of their daughter, Marie. Marie’s husband was lynched by the Klan while Marie was pregnant with Chelsea. Marie followed her husband to the grave while delivering her daughter. It was a heartbreaking tale. Jessica’s sympathy for their losses was tantamount, and she applauded them for taking on raising the two small orphans.

To Ditter, Jessica said, “I hope you had enough wood to keep your fires going last night and you were all warm enough. I hate the thought of Chelsea being out there in the cold. She’s so little.”

“We were fine,” Ditter said.

“The lumber to repair your cabins should be here tomorrow. We can get started fixing them right away. That should help—”

The sound of the front door cut Jessica off.

“Excuse me, Miss Jessica,” Ditter said quickly.

“Ditter!” Jon’s voice rang out loudly.

“Yes, sir. Right here, sir.”

“Take our coats!” Jon barked.

Jessica rose from behind the piano. It seemed like Jon never came home alone any more. William Hughes was almost always with him. Although her opinion of her father’s oldest friend had changed considerably, at least she could tolerate him. Arnold Whistler, another of Jon’s almost daily guests, she disliked vehemently. The other man who was with them frequently was Edward Murphy. Jessica never thought much of him, and her opinion had only worsened. Since her wedding, he’d somehow lost two of his front teeth. Now he spoke with a pronounced lisp.

Jon always invited his guests to stay for dinner, hence the reason Jessica asked if she could eat in the kitchen. She had absolutely no interest in being part of Jon and his friends’ discussions about politics and the great feats of the awful Sovereign Sons of the South. Even so, from the bits and pieces she overheard, she was sure they were all members of the nasty group. William Hughes and Arnold Whistler were the ones who invited Jon to join.

The only thing Jessica could be thankful for was that her father and brother were not part of it. She knew, of course, of their involvement with the Ku Klux Klan before it was disbanded. Back then, when she complained, her father assured her he and Trent only participated at rallies and meetings. They didn’t go along with the Klan during their violent raids. Thinking of what the Klan did to Reverend Nash still made Jessica furious. The reverend was fully recovered, but he would always have a scar over his eye.

Jon was the first to come into the parlor. Arnold Whistler and Edward Murphy were right behind him. And then, Jessica gasped aloud. Trent was with them. She wanted to scream at her brother, “No, no, no!” But she couldn’t. Not here. Not now. She had to remind herself she had faith in Trent. He was too smart to fall under Jon’s or the others’ influence. He was too smart to let them coerce him into joining their stupid, resurrected Klan.

“Hello, my dear,” Jon said.

Jessica forced herself to greet her husband and his guests politely. She gave Trent a brief hug, and for his ears alone she said, “Now that winter has set in, you won’t have as much to do on the farm. Will you come visit with me sometime?”

“I will. I promise,” Trent agreed.

After that Jessica excused herself. She intended to go to her bedroom, to take the nap her cold, tired limbs were demanding, but a remark from the parlor stopped her in her tracks.

“That damn thpook,” Edward Murphy said. “I’ll tell you, we need to figure out who he ith tho we can thtop him!”

“Somebody must know something about him. Somebody has to have some idea who this character is,” Jon said. Jessica could hear glasses clinking. He was evidently pouring whiskey for them.

“I’ll tell you, Jon,” Arnold Whistler spoke next. “If all your targets keep getting away, you’ll never be fully inducted. I worry Stone will suspend your probationary status. Seven raids foiled in three weeks! It’s a damn shame!”

“I have an idea,” Jon said. “Since the spook seems to get to all of our targets before we do, why don’t we plan our raids for one particular day, but actually carry them out several days before. It could be a code, so to speak. We say Friday, but really we mean Tuesday.”

“Jon, I like how you think,” Arnold Whistler said enthusiastically. “It’s an excellent idea. Only a handful of us will know. We’ll have to tell Hughes, of course. Simpson should know, too.”

“Brilliant!” Edward Murphy agreed. “There’th no way the thpook will be able to find out. I knew you’d make a great Klanthman, Jon.”

Trent said cynically, “It will only work if one of us isn’t the spook’s informant.”

“All the better,” Arnold Whistler retorted, “because there will be only the six of us who know. If the spook finds out about our next raid in advance, then we’ll have our informant narrowed down a great deal, won’t we?”

“You don’t really suspect Hughes, do you?” Jon cut in.

“As far as I’m concerned the only people I trust are Stone and you gentlemen right here in this room. I don’t have any particular comfort with that young chap Simpson either. He talks too damn much,” Arnold Whistler said.

“Trent, you know Thimpthon better than the retht of uth,” Edward Murphy chimed in. “What do you think of him?”

“Simpson’s alright,” Trent said wryly. “He’s just used to being the center of attention. He’s all talk and not much bite. He can be pretty crass sometimes. I doubt he has anything to do with the spook.”

“You’re probably right,” Arnold Whistler added. “I still think Nash is the spook. We know he has guns and a black horse. It’s pretty obvious he isn’t heeding any of the warnings we’ve given him. I think he needs to be taught another lesson. A real lesson.”

“It can’t be Nash,” Jon cut in. “I think Hughes is right. Besides, the man is too damn prissy. He may look big, but he’s a chicken. I’ll bet he’s never won a fight in his life.”

Jessica couldn’t listen to them any longer. They were planning raids! She wasn’t that naïve to not realize that a raid included brutal violence. Physically she was sickened. Of course her husband would want to be part of this! He had no respect for colored people. His behavior toward those working for him made that abundantly clear.

But Trent, her beloved brother! Obviously she’d been wrong about his involvement. It was unfathomable that he would want to be part of them. Not Trent! She couldn’t even consider it! In their dialogue, he didn’t say anything while they were talking about the raids specifically. Trent’s comments were made only when they were speaking of this
spook
character. Jessica hadn’t missed the animosity directed toward Trent from Arnold either. Arnold suspected Trent was the spook’s informant. If this was true, Trent would be absolved.

But who was this spook? If she understood what they were saying correctly, this man was warning Klan victims before the Klan could get to them. He was savings peoples’ lives! Whoever he was, Jessica approved of him immensely. They suspected Harry Simpson, the man she’d been enamored with for years. This would make sense. Having suffered so much in his childhood, Harry would hate to see others subjected to the same pain or worse. Could Harry Simpson really be the spook? Or Reverend Nash? They suspected him, too.

Before Jessica had a chance to contemplate anything further, through the foyer windows, she caught sight of a large wagon pulling up to the front of the house. The lumber was here a day early!

Afraid Jon would notice through the parlor window, quickly Jessica wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and ran out onto the porch. She wished Ditter or Herlin were nearby so one of them could direct the lumberman to the cabins, but Ditter had gone to the kitchen for coffee, and Herlin was most likely in the stables. It would take too long to get him.

Jessica moved quickly down the porch stairs and over to the cart. “This lumber needs to be taken to the servants’ cabins,” she told the driver. “I’ll have to come with you to show you where to go.”

“No problem, ma’am. Hop on up.” The driver threw her a toothless, leering smile, and Jessica wanted to recoil. He was overweight and had a large, dark wart on the end of his nose. The hand he held out for her to take was caked with dirt and grease.

Ignoring his proffered assistance, Jessica grabbed the edges of the cart to haul herself up, but she wasn’t fast enough. Behind her, she heard the front door open.

“Jessica!” Jon yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Jessica let go of the cart and turned to face her husband, who strode down the porch steps. His guests, including Trent, followed him out onto the porch.

“This is lumber to repair the servants’ cabins,” Jessica told Jon. “I’m going to show the driver where to deliver it.”

Jon looked pointedly at Jessica before refocusing on the driver. “Take it back. I didn’t order any lumber.”

“Stay right there!” Jessica said to the driver, and then she glared at her husband. “I ordered the lumber. Those cabins need to be repaired and since you won’t see to it, I will. I went to town two weeks ago and ordered it myself.”

“Where did you get the money to pay for the lumber, Jessica?” Jon asked sternly.

Jessica raised her chin. “From you. I put it on your account.”

“Were you planning to tell me about this?”

“What for? You would just say no.”

“You’re damn right!” He looked at the driver. “Take the lumber back. We don’t want it.”

“Can’t do that,” the driver said. “This here lumber is cut special. All sales on special cuts is final.”

Jessica smiled triumphantly. “I’m going to show the driver where to take it.”

She turned back to the cart and started to hoist herself up. In one swift move, Jon’s arm came around her waist. He plucked her right off the cart and set her on her feet. “Go back inside. It’s too cold out here. You don’t have a coat on.”

“No!” Jessica retorted, and she started for the cart again.

“Jessica!” This time Jon grabbed her arm and dragged her away. And he didn’t let go. His fingers remained firmly clasped above her elbow.

“Let go!” she yelled at him.

But Jon’s attention was already on something else. Groaning silently, Jessica saw Herlin hurrying across the lawn toward them.

“Did you know about this?” Jon bellowed.

Herlin halted in his tracks and Jessica shouted, “He knows nothing! I ordered the lumber.”

Herlin answered anyway. “Yes, suh,” he said meekly.

“He only knew because he was kind enough to accompany me to town!” Jessica yelled. “He had nothing to do with it. It was my idea. He didn’t know why I was going to town until we got there!”

“Herlin, have the driver put the lumber in the barn,” Jon ordered. “That lumber will not be used to do anything to your cabins. So help me God, if I see one of those boards nailed onto those cabins, I will beat whoever put it there. Do you understand, boy? You make sure every one of you stupid niggers understands that. Is that clear?”

“Yes, suh,” Herlin said.

“I will deal with you knowing about this later!”

“Please, Jon, don’t do this,” Jessica begged. “Please don’t punish Herlin. He didn’t know. He didn’t!”

“Jessica, you and I will talk about this later, too. Right now, you need to go back inside.” Returning his attention to Herlin, he barked, “Boy, what the hell are you standing there looking at? Put your ass into fast and do what I told you to do! Move!”

Jessica abruptly jerked her arm from Jon’s grasp and ran up the porch steps. Without sparing her brother a glance, she shoved the door open and raced through it. As she ran up the stairway, she heard Jon say to his companions, “Niggers. There will be no peace on this earth until we get rid of them all!”