Daughters of the Heart (21 page)

He stood and held both her arms…too tight. “Sofia, you’re wrong.” His grip softened some. “You are surely the most beautiful female to ever walk this earth. Bar none.” He pulled her toward him.

She held back, hoping he’d say more, but his eyes told her she best do ’xactly what he want. She smiled, then submitted to his embrace. “You truly think I’m prettier than that Texas gal, Missy Gwendolyn?”

He kissed her neck then whispered in her ear. “Yes, she’s no more than an ugly ol’ cow next to you, my love.”

She pushed back and spun a full circle, her skirt fanning out. “Tell me true, who do you really love?”

Braxton grinned. He loved it when she danced for him. “It’s you.” He reached for her, but she twisted out of his range, teasing, swaying her hips. As she moved closer, he grabbed at her. She laughed and shied away.

Truth be told, she…he shook his head. What a fool he was. “That’s it.”

Sofia stopped in front of him. “What’s the matter, Bubba? Now you don’t love me anymore?”

“No, my beauty! I still love you alright.” He grabbed a handful of her thick hair and pulled her in then kissed her hard. “I’ll be right back. Keep your dancing shoes on.”

She frowned and looked at her bare feet. “What?”

“Nevermind.” He kissed her again then hurried upstairs. After two unanswered knocks, he pushed the old man’s door open. “I figured it out.”

Bull looked up. “What exactly did you conclude?”

Braxton smiled, held a finger up, then grabbed the piece of paper then marked his father’s place in the Meriwether novel he’d been reading.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a minute, and you’ll see.” Once he found the ink and quill, he scribbled the words that would change everything. He handed the note to his father. “Think you can ge
t
thisunde
r
Gwen’s pillow while the Buckmeyers are supping tonight?”

Bull read the message. “You really think this is going to work?”

“She came to New Orleans, didn’t she?”

“Add a ‘come alone’ and…” He smiled so big, the gesture threatened to break his face in two. “I’ll take it myself if I have to.”

“But Daddy.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve gone everywhere
I can think of. Yet, other than that one clerk at the post office, no one has ever seen or heard of a Braxton Hightower.”

Gwen looked from her pigheaded father to Mama May, who offered not one smidgeon of encouragement, then back to her daddy. “Can we at least go to the Hightower Plantation? We’re so close.”

“It’s fifteen miles downriver, sugar, and if they have a Braxton there, someone here would know of him.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. That was the bizarre part. Why would he tell her an out and out lie? She glared at her father. “I’ve got to find him. I’ve got to know.”

“If…” He held one finger up. “We take you tomorrow to the Hightower’s place, and they don’t know him from Adam’s off ox, then we go home, agreed?”

No. She did not want to leave, not until she found him. If only she could think of some explanation…maybe it might give her an idea. She strolled to the balcony’s double doors and pulled back the lace curtains.

How could this be happening to her? Other than searching grave markers for his name, she couldn’t think of anything else.

Except the folks of New Orleans didn’t bury their dead. They put them in above-ground crypts. A shudder took control of her spine thinking of it.

She turned around. “Fine, if they don’t know where he is, then we’ll go home. But I would think that you wouldn’t have come all this way to give up and leave without at least knowing the truth. I might think it of someone else, a lesser man, but not Henry Buckmeyer. You never give up. You just hate the man I love. But I’ll go.”

“I believe I know the truth, and have for a while. Maybe after tomorrow, you’ll accept it, too.”

Mama May jumped to her feet and rubbed her hands together. “Good! Now that’s settled, let’s go get supper. We still have time before the curtain goes up.”

Whoever heard of baked fish? Gwen regretted ordering the perch, but had tired of the spicy Cajun dishes. Everyone knew fish should be fried and served with potato salad.

And that wonderful sauce Miss Jewel made. She only picked at the fish, filling up on the buttered, steamed vegetables and the wonderful fresh baked bread.

It wasn’t fair he made her promise to leave. What if Braxton lay in some hovel—right down the street—so close, dying of the fever?

Of all the plays for the Shakespeare troupe to perform, it had to be Romeo and Juliet. As though she needed any reminder that she and her Romeo might never be together.

Even if she found him, would her father ever consider letting her marry him? On the way back to the hotel, she ran the predicament through her mind for the thousandth time.

All the letters… She fingered her locket. And gifts… They had a New Orleans stamp plain as day. It just didn’t make any sense.

“Don’t forget the chair.”

What? Did he think she was twelve? “Yes, Daddy, I won’t. Good night.” She leaned out and looked past him. “You, too, Mama. Sleep well.”

Once the oil lamps glowed, and she changed from her new evening attire into her gown and robe, a black square on her pillow caught her eye. What…? She picked it up. Licorice. Her heartbeat quickened. Braxton’s favorite.

But how… Had he been there? Was it a message? What could it mean?

She laid the candy onto her tongue, then closed her mouth and eyes, savoring the burst of flavor, remembering the time Braxton had bought some in Clarksville to surprise her. He made her close her eyes and open her mouth.

His smile and laugh when she opened them again…. How much she’d enjoyed the treat.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

Twirling down onto the bed, she grabbed the pillow and hugged it.

Oh, my love, where are you?

The thought to pray passed over her heart, but God probably was on her father’s side.

Closing her eyes again, she savored the last little bit of licorice. Would he ever hold her in his arms? She flung the sack of feathers back onto the bed. A piece of paper fluttered as the pillow sailed over it. She grabbed it and held it by the lamp.

Gwendolyn, my love,

      Meet me in the lobby at the stroke of midnight, I’ll

explain it all, please come alone.

                                                All my Love,

                                                 Braxton

Her heart boomed in her ears. Her breath caught. He was alive! He would explain everything! She threw off her robe. What time was it? She rummaged through her trunk. What to wear?

Oh, Braxton! You’re alive, and you’re real. Yes, I will come alone.

She decided for time’s sake to wear the dress she’d worn earlier and ducked into it.

And when I’ve heard all your answers to all my questions, I’ll wake up Daddy and Mama May, and we’ll explain it all to them. Together.

He was real, she knew he was.

And if she was any happier, she’d surely explode.

Blue Dog licked Henry’s hand, not a good sign. For too long, he studied the night. Blue growled. Then as if the beasts wanted him to know, a piercing howl broke the calm. Wolves!

He sat up in bed. Moonlight shown through lacy curtains.

Where was he?

Oh, yes. New Orleans. Why had he dreamed of that night with Sue on the Jefferson Trace? The night they all might have all been killed if not for Blue Dog. He snuggled in tight against May, with a smile on his lips. What a great dog. He loved New Blue, but there’d never be another like his sire.

Could it have been him going by the very spot where he proposed to his first love? His new loved rolled over. “Henry? Is something wrong?”

“Just a bad dream. I’ll tell you about in the morning.”

She nodded then laid back. “I love you, darling.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

Gwen stepped off the stairs then searched the two-story room. If the big clock behind the clerk’s desk proved right, then still ten minutes to go. The lobby appeared so different, so quiet without any of its usual hustle bustle.

No one anywhere to be seen. A low hum drifted from the lobby’s far end. Sounded like a few folks remained in the bar.

Was that where he was now? Waiting for midnight? Waiting for her?

She shouldn’t be there.

Her heart pounded.

Sticking her hand into her clutch, she touched the Derringer Levi and Rose had given her for her sixteenth birthday. It’s cool steel brought a measure of peace. She appreciated that her daddy insisted she bring it.

Her feet threatened to bolt back upstairs, into her room with the chair back in its place, leveraged against the door.

But her heart nailed them to the floor.

An overstuffed chair against the wall to her right seemed like an excellent place to wait. She slipped into it and leaned back, but kept her hand in her clutch wrapped around the pistol.

The clocked chimed once then twice. She stood, staring at the bar. A blur to her left pulled her around. Braxton hurried toward her. She swallowed, dropped her purse in the chair, and ran to him.

At the last step, he stopped and held his arms wide open. She threw herself into his embrace. He spun her around then pressed his lips against hers.

For a heartbeat she resisted, then kissed him back.

The clock’s stroke sounded. She kissed him one last time then leaned back. “Where have you been, darling? We’ve been searching all over for you.”

He nodded then leaned in. She put her hand on his chest. “Your note said –”

“Yes, I wrote it, remember? I know what it says. Want a drink?”

“No, of course not! I only want you to tell me where you have been. Why doesn’t anyone in this city know you?”

“Oh, they know me, but I lied to you.”

She backed away a step. “What? Why? When?”

“My precious, I never meant to fall in love with you, but I did. I did my best to stay away, forget about you. Tried to stop writing, but I couldn’t. I love you, Gwendolyn.”

She backed away another step. “What did you lie about?”

“My name. Hightower is, was, my mother’s maiden name.” He moved in closer and shrugged. “My father…he sent me to try and purchase some of your father’s land.”

“Why? This isn’t making any sense at all, Braxton.” Her mind spun with possibilities, the deception. Her daddy hated liars. “But that’s not your real name, is it? You’re not Braxton Hightower. That’s why no one knows you!”

He reached for her, but she quickly turned her shoulder away.

“Who are you?” Her voice echoed in the cavernous, empty room. “Tell me! Tell me now!”

“My real name…is Glover.”

At first, the name didn’t register, meant nothing to her. Then like that snowball Houston landed to her temple, it hit her. “As in Bull Glover?”

“Yes, darling. He’s my father.”

“But why would he send you to buy our land? Why did you have to lie?”

“Because he’s a mean, bitter old man obsessed with beating Henry at anything, putting him down. He figured he could rub it in your father’s face, if he was a neighbor.”

A rose by any other name…but it wasn’t sweet…and this…this information certainly was not a rose. More like thorns, pricking her heart. She couldn’t believe it.

Her daddy had been right—again. It was all about him after all, and vengeance. The pain in her chest heightened. After a deep, full breath, she exhaled slowly.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.” He held his hand out. “Come on, I’ve got a priest waiting. There’s nothing more in this world I want but to make you my wife. I’ll make it up to you, my love, and never lie to you again. I’ve been so torn, my heart shattered, beside myself with fear. Will you put me back together? Heal my aching heart? Be my wife?”

“I…I….”

“We can be married tonight, tell your folks in the morning.”

She was of age. And here was the man she loved, but he lied to her. Her Father’s words rang loud in her head. If a man will lie to you, he’ll steal from you. Was that it? Was he after her money?