Doves Migration (44 page)

A week later, Michael had picked up his wife and family at the train
station. After telling them the events that had lead up to Lucas’ and Thomas
Hastings’, deaths, Sarah lovingly glanced at her husband, his arm bandaged
and in a sling.

“And you darling? Are you healing from your gunshot?”
“Me? Yeah, sore, but I’ll be fine. Poor Montgomery will be left with a
nasty scar, though. He’s damned lucky it missed his eye. Half an inch
higher and he would have lost it.”
Sarah, shaking her head, said, “My God, I can’t believe it. Why didn’t
you tell me the White Camellias that I had read about in Versus’ letter were
so dangerous? I surely never would have allowed you and Tad to be down
here for so long if I had known.”
“Precisely why I didn’t say anything. You were needed with Elise, and
do you think I would allow you down here under these circumstances?
Fairfax is no longer the lovely sleepy town we left a year ago. The hatred
in the hearts of these men are possibly worse then during the war. This
secret organization, the Ku Klux Klan members don’t proudly wear a
uniform, they shroud themselves in sheets and strike at night most of the
time. So you don’t know who they are. It could be any of your friends or
trusted neighbors, which makes them doubly sinister. The fear they have
brought down on honest law-abiding citizens is unbelievable.”
Elise, sitting next to Joshua holding her son, as Joshua held his
daughter, looked at Michael. “And, you say that Thomas was a member of
this organization?”
“Not just a member, but evidently the leader in these parts. That’s why
Mammy Tess left Doves Landing. It just wasn’t safe for her there any
longer.”
“And now? Where is Mammy Tess?” Sarah asked.
“Oh since Tad came down last month, she has moved back in to the old
boardinghouse of course, tending to Clarisa, her daughter-in-law, who
apparently had been beaten so badly they don’t think she’ll ever walk
again. Jessie won’t come by the house at all, not even to see his wife.
Blames himself for not protecting her, I suppose.”
Inhaling a deep breath, Sarah glanced out the window as they passed
Glenbrook. A smile crossed her lips seeing the children running about the
grounds.
“Well at least the Brown’s old plantation looks good. Why, I don’t
recall it looking so nice in years.”
Seeing a newly-constructed fence where none had been before, she
looked at Michael, and asked, “Is that the dividing of the grounds? I see the
cemetery is on the other side of the fence.”
“Gilbert insisted that the family plot remain a part of Miranda’s and his
portion of the property.”
“That was very thoughtful of him. How did Gilbert and Lucas get
along?”
“Surprising well. Lucas took to him straight off. As a matter of fact,
when Lucas died, Gilbert was by his side, bringing little Lucas closer to
him, so he could see him.”
Sharing with them, Lucas’ last words, Elise glanced at her son sleeping
in her arms. “I’m glad Mr. Brown got to see his grandson before he died.
That must be a great comfort to Miranda.”
Pulling up in front of Gilbert and Felicity’s plantation and seeing the
immense size of the Georgian mansion, she gasped. “Oh my, I had no idea
Lucas had built such a large home for Miranda. What on earth is she ever
going to do with such a big place?”
“It was Lucas’ wishes, trust me. Before she and Gilbert had arrived, he
had already begun the construction of it. You should have seen poor
Gilbert’s face as he tried to keep his temper. There he was--red as a beet-with Miranda jubilant, and I thought the man was going to burst. I
genuinely felt sorry for him.”
As the carriage stopped, Bessie and Tess ran out the doors and instantly
welcomed Sarah, Elise and Joshua while each of them took a baby in their
arms, cooing and fussing over the twins.
After kissing Mammy Tess and Bessie, Elise went directly to the door
where stood a man she presumed was Gilbert. Stretching out her hand to
him, she said, “Hello, I’m Elise Carmidy.”
“Aye. I suspected as much. Welcome. I’m sure glad yer here. My
Mandy girl has been needing her best friend.” Hearing him refer to
Miranda by his pet name and saying such a kind thing, Elise impulsively
leaned forward and hugged him.
“Thank you kindly. Where might I find Miranda?”
“She’s upstairs in the nursery with little Lucas--second door to your
left. Go on up while I welcome the others.”
Nodding, Elise went straight up the stairs. Without knocking, she
opened the door and finding Miranda nursing her son, lovingly smiled at
her friend.
“Hello Miranda,” Elise said, while rushing over to her and kissing her
forehead as she looked down at the baby contently drinking his mother’s
milk. Elise, cooing at him, caressed his forehead and pulled up a chair.
Neither woman seemed the least bit embarrassed that Miranda was nursing
her child.
Elise said, “I met your Gilbert. I like him. Why didn’t you tell me how
good looking he is?”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . I suppose, I failed to tell you lots of things,
didn’t I?”
It was clear to Elise that her friend was extremely melancholy and was
suffering deeply from the loss of her father. “Well, give me my little
godson, Miranda. Looks like he has had plenty to eat. Besides, before long,
Mama will be up here and then I won’t ever get to hold him, with Sarah
Tess and little Michael wanting to be fed.”
Smiling, Miranda removed her son from her nipple and as she placed
him in Elise’s arms, she smiled, watching Elise place him over her shoulder
and tenderly pat his back.
“My, just look at you, Elise. Why you’re an old pro at this.”
As Elise sat rocking the wee baby in her arms, Miranda hastily
buttoned her black blouse.
“I see Bessie’s been by sealing all the windows and mirrors in black
taffeta,” Elise said.
“Yes. I suppose some things never change.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. From what I heard from Michael, your
Papa sure did. Sounds like he and Gilbert had a wonderful relationship.”
Nodding, Miranda smiled and said, “They did. Papa truly loved him I
think. It was so wonderful these past few months . . .”
“Time well spent, I’d say. I’m happy you were able to make peace with
Lucas.” Hearing the baby burp, Elise wiped his mouth with a cloth handing
it back to Miranda, she added. “Well little man, you sure were a lucky little
boy weren’t ya? You got to meet your grandpapa before he went to
heaven.”
Smiling fondly over at her friend, Miranda said, “I’m so glad you
came, Elise. I don’t know if I could have made it through the funeral
without you. Beside, it’s only right that you’re here to say goodbye to
Papa, he loved you so.”
Calmly rocking little Lucas in her arms, smiling down at him, seeing
him drift off to sleep Elise said, “And I loved him. Lucas was like a father
to me, and these past years seeing him . . . Well, let’s just say it does my
heart good to know that he finally found true happiness in his heart through
you and your family.”
“He did, didn’t he?”
“You sure made him proud of you, Miranda. We all are. Which by the
way, I’m not liking it one little bit, my sister out-shinning me like that. So
from here on out there will be no more heroics out of you.”
Chuckling, Miranda smiled through her tears. “God, I love you, Elise.
Only you could make me smile the day I lay my father to rest.”
“Miranda, honey, your Papa lived a full life and thanks to you his last
days here on earth were happy ones. So don’t be sad for him. Lucas Brown
was to proud a man--far too proud to let his little girl grieve over his
passing. I can hear him just as if he were standing right here beside me,
‘Missy, you just take this sweet child on down to that there cemetery and
let me rest, because I live through you and little Lucas’.”
Nodding, Miranda said, “He would have said that. Thank you, Elise. I
truly needed you here today, especially since I’m certain Tad will be in
attendance and it’s hard enough seeing that man when I’m having a good
day . . .”
“I heard he’s been in Fairfax. Mama even mentioned he was seeing
Constance Hildebrandt.”
“Is he? I wouldn’t know and I don’t rightly care, either. I just hope
Constance knows what she’s up against. If I were a better friend, I’d
probably warn her against the likes of him.”
“She wouldn’t listen to you anyway. You know Constance, she always
had a mind of her own.”
Again, Miranda chuckled. “Why Elise Carmidy, I can’t believe my
ears. Coming from one of the most stubborn women I have ever know . . .
Why, I’m flabbergasted.”
“Me?” Elise said smiling. “Why you should talk Miranda dear, or need
I remind you how you ran off with Gilbert, without so much as a how do
you do?”
Then Miranda raising her eyebrow, smiled and said, “Well, I suppose
you’re right. It must run in the family, little sis.”
Hearing her own children crying Elise said, “Well come on Auntie,
let’s you and me go introduce little Lucas here to his cousins. And then
later this afternoon, just when the sun sets--Lucas’ favorite time of the
day--we’ll lay him down to rest next to those he loved.”
“Papa would like that.”
The two of them left the nursery, arm and arm, and hearing the door
open, Joshua stood at the foot of the steps with Sarah Tess in his arms
crying to be fed.
“Hello, Miranda. I’m so sorry at your loss.”
“Thank you, Joshua, especially for bringing Elise and my niece and
nephew here. It means the world to me.”
“It was my pleasure.” Looking over at his wife, he hastily added.
“Thank heavens darling, you came down when you did because my little
princess here is just like her mother, impatient as they come.”
“Hmm,” Elise said teasingly, leaning into Miranda, she said, “Oh, and
by the way, I’m one up on you little sis, so you and that good looking
husband have some catching up to do.”
Gilbert, standing under the stairwell, able to hear every word Elise had
said, stepped out so he could be seen looking up at her and his wife. He
smiled hearing his wife snicker. Already he knew he was going to like
Miranda’s friend, and said, “Aye. Da, God rest his soul, sure gave us a
large enough house now didn’t he?”
As they all went inside the parlor, the Honeycutt’s, Carmidy’s, and
O’Flaherty’s rejoiced in Lucas’ legacy, knowing he would have loved
having those he cherished most celebrating his life and accomplishments.

As a child, I recall sneaking a flashlight into bed so I could
finish reading under the covers a book from the school library before
it had to be returned the following day. As a teen, my English teacher
read
Johnny Tremain
by Ester Forbes having everyone in my class,
including myself, mesmerized upon discovering how a fictional boy
from the Revolutionary War is maimed for life following a tragic
accident. I remember gasps by my classmates as the bandages were
taken off Johnny’s wounded hand and his discovery that his fingers
had grown together.

As I studied my own hand, imagining what it must be like to
have webbed fingers, I understood fully the significance of weaving
a good tale--a tale that could take the reader on a holiday for the
mind.

It is my sincere hope that as you read the third installment to
the
Doves Collect
series, you will be swept away to another place
and time and fully enjoy discovering more about the lives and times
of these fictional characters during America’s most tumultuous era in
history.