Authors: Patricia Hagan
After Vanessa left, Mandy had cried for days. But then almost overnight, she seemed to be her old self again. She hovered around April, as though replacing her devotion to Vanessa with devotion to her. April accepted this graciously, wanting to ease her loss. Gradually, Mandy became her personal maid. Everything had worked out satisfactorily, except for those distressing times when Mandy became uppity, even sassy.
Mandy did not like Alton Moseley. April was aware of that. Mandy had belligerently hinted that he had no right to be calling. April reminded her angrily that she was out of place. There had been an apology, but the slips still came.
True, Alton was poor. April had seen the two-room shack that was home for Alton and his parents and the seven other Moseley children. But wealth made no difference. He had been a friend to her when she needed one most. And now that Frank Taggart and his wife were gone, as well as Rance, it was Alton who had charge of the stables.
April began to spend a lot of time at the stables. At first she meant only to get away from her father. But then she and Alton became friends. She found herself confiding in
him, telling him of her miseries, except for her father’s thinking that she was her mother. She could not make herself divulge that to anyone, not yet.
She thought of him only as a friend, but had lately realized that he had more in mind than friendship. It disturbed her, but what could she do?
Now April went to her room and changed to something warmer. Even as far south as Alabama, the October afternoons could be quite chilly. With a shawl wrapped about her shoulders, she walked quietly down the back stairway, careful not to be seen; then slipped out the rear door and hurried toward the stables.
The crepe myrtles had bloomed all summer. Now the leaves were patches of gold and brown against the cloudy sky. A few already skittered and danced their way to the ground. In the field to her left, the parched, gnarled cotton plants were already dead. On her right, she could see the Negro slaves—or
servants
as she preferred to call them, or field hands, anything but
slaves
—moving through the cornfields, gathering the last of the crop. She hoped the corn would bring a lot of money. Goodness knows, they needed money.
When she reached the stables, she entered the larger building. Alton had improvised sleeping quarters in the back room there, so he would not have to return to his home every night. April suspected he liked the extra room, even if it was in a stable.
The warm smell of manure mingled with the faint odor of polished leather. April loved the stables and the horses. She felt peaceful here. Back in the huge house, she felt as though she were suffocating.
Alton stepped out of a nearby stall, a bucket of feed in his hand. “Hello,” he greeted her, a bit uneasily, she thought. “I see you got my message. I never know if Mandy will deliver it. She’s a funny one.”
“She…she teased me. Said you were coming to court me.” April tried to sound light, humorous, but her brows were already knitting together.
They made the usual small talk, discussing the horses as she followed him from stall to stall to fill the feed bins. She sensed that there was something wrong and soon she asked bluntly, “What’s wrong, Alton? You’re behaving quite strangely.”
He set the bucket down at his feet, then reached to brush a golden tendril back from her forehead. She waited, sensing that he was gathering courage. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then said, “I’ve got to go to war, honey. There’s just no getting around it any longer. I’ve hung back, because of you, wanting to be around to look out for you. Now things seem to be getting ready to bust loose, I’ve got to go fight for the South. I feel I must. Can you understand that?”
She felt as though the air were being sucked from her lungs. Alton leaving? His friendship was all that kept her going. To lose him was more than she could bear.
Suddenly, she was washed with shame. Her thoughts had been only of herself, not of the dangers he would face in war. And he was right. All the able-bodied men were marching off to defend their homeland.
She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand and whispered, “I’ll pray for your safe return, Alton, and I shall miss you deeply.”
“I knew you’d be this way,” he cried suddenly, joyfully. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gathered her close, his lips touching hers. Strangely, she felt herself responding, but even then she knew her reaction had nothing to do with love. She did not love Alton. He was shelter from the storm.
He stepped back to give her a lopsided grin, his hair tumbling down over his forehead. “I knew you’d be upset when I told you, April. You do care for me! Maybe not a whole lot, but you feel something. And I want you to marry me. I want you to be my wife.”
He was speaking rapidly, as though he knew if he hesitated, for even a second, she would begin reciting reasons for refusing. “You don’t have to go live with my folks, though you could if things got real bad here. Shucks, they might not have a big house, but they all got big hearts, and they’d take you in and see you didn’t go hungry. Maybe you think I’m a fool to ask you to marry me, when I’m poor as a church mouse, but when you love somebody like I love you, you act like a fool, I reckon.
“I mean,” he rushed on, brushing away the tears that were slowly moving down her smooth cheeks, “I see that big mansion you live in, your fine clothes and all, and I know I can’t ever give you those things. But God knows, I love you with every beat of my heart, April, and I’d never do anything to hurt you, I swear to you.”
It had all happened so quickly, like the flash of lightning in a summer storm. Her brain was spinning. Her lips moved but she made no sound.
“I’m going to speak to your daddy,” Alton said firmly as he folded her in his arms and held her tightly against him. “I’m going to go to him and respectfully ask for your hand in marriage.”
Once more, April was ashamed, for her mind was now telling her that this was the way out of her misery. This was the chance to get away from her father and his increasing insanity. As wrong as it might be to marry a man she did not love, there seemed to be no other answer.
He cupped her chin, lifting her face for his kiss. “I’ll make you happy, April,” he smiled. She saw the glimmer of unshed tears and knew he was ecstatic.
She responded to his kiss and, as he held her, she prayed silently that God would understand and forgive her.
Chapter Four
Noon shadows danced along the ceiling. April knew she should get out of bed, but she did not move. She was weary from crying since early dawn. More than that, she was frustrated from the constant struggle to hide her tears. Most of all, she hated herself for not being able to do anything about the miserable existence her life had become.
Coward. She winced as she scalded herself with the word. That’s what she was. A coward for finding only one road left open—escape. Marriage to Alton would be an escape. But even if she remained at home, there was nothing she could do for her father.
True, there were times when he seemed his old self, but these occasions were becoming rare. The servants were gossiping openly now, and only faithful old Posie and Buford would even go near him. The others whispered fearfully that their master was mad…and dangerous.
Dangerous. The word danced about in her mind, stabbing painfully. He did not mean to harm her. But only that morning, in the early hours, he had come to her door and, finding it locked, rapped softly and called out, “Lorena. Why are you locking me out? I want you, darling, and you know how good it will be.”
She had covered her face with her pillows, trying to shut out his voice. When she did not answer, he began to pound on the door with his fists. She had huddled beneath the covers, sobbing in terror, frightened that he would break down the door.
Finally he petulantly called, “This isn’t like you, Lorena. You’ve never refused me before. I’m quite angry with you. I’m your husband, and I have my rights.”
After what seemed forever, he gave up, and she heard the sound of his shuffling footsteps as he returned to his own room.
Dear God, how much more could she take? How much longer could she fend him off?
Someone knocked on her door, and she cringed. She would not answer. Let him
think she had gone out for the day.
“Miss April, is you sick?”
Posie! She leaped from the bed, almost tripping in her haste to unlock the door.
“How come you ain’t been downstairs?” Posie looked at her suspiciously as she entered the room. “Mandy said she knocked early this mornin’, and you didn’t answer. What’s wrong child? You look might poorsome.”
April turned away, not wanting Posie to see her red-rimmed eyes. “I’m fine. I must’ve been asleep when Mandy knocked. I guess I’m just being lazy.”
“Well, I come up to tell you this is one of yo’ daddy’s good days. He’s up and dressed and been downstairs in his study workin’. He tol’ me to come up here and see if you is comin’ down for lunch. I got collards and fatback and some sweet tater puddin’.”
April sighed with relief. If her father was having a good day, then he would behave normally, and there was no need to be afraid.
Then, with a wave of joy, she thought of Alton. It would not do for him to speak to her father when he was in one of his dazes. She would send for Alton today.
There was no other way. She could only pray to God that Alton would never know she did not truly love him, and she vowed silently to do everything in her power to make him happy.
She took a deep breath, gathering her wits about her as she turned to face Posie. “I want you to send Mandy to the stables to find Alton,” she said. “I want her to invite him here for lunch today.”
“Mastah Alton Moseley?” Posie’s eyes bugged. “You ain’t serious, is you, chile? You know how yo’ poppa is, and he ain’t gonna want no po’ white trash eatin’ at his table.”
“Alton is not white trash!” April flared.
Posie was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. I know he’s a fine young man, but he is po’, and yo’ poppa ain’t gonna want him eatin’ here. You mark my words. Yo’ poppa gonna be mad. All Mastah Moseley is around here is a stable hand, and ye’ poppa ain’t never had none o’ them at his table. Not even the Taggarts, when they was here.”
She paused, then glared at her. “Now I done tol’ you he’s havin’ a good day. How come you wants to go and ruin it?”
April would not back down. How could she? “Do as I say, Posie. I don’t have to explain myself to you.” She hated speaking so sharply, but she was too desperate to argue. “You see that Mandy invites Alton here for lunch today.”
Posie murmured “Yes’m” and bustled from the room, mumbling to herself.
April splashed cool water on her face from the porcelain bowl on her dresser, then began to brush her long golden hair. She chose a light green wool dress with a high, lace-edged collar and long, fitted sleeves. Finding a matching ribbon of green velvet, she tied her hair back so that the natural curls fell about her shoulders. Dabbing a touch of cologne about her ears, she looked in the mirror and decided that she looked as mature as she should look for the occasion.
On her way downstairs, she met Mandy coming up. Her face was bright with excitement, and she spoke breathlessly. “I did what you asked, Miss April. Mastah Alton, he say to give him time to clean up a bit, and he’d be here. He was cleanin’ out stalls, and you know what he smells like!” She held her nose and giggled.
“Don’t say anything to anyone, Mandy,” April warned. “I want to be the one to tell my father we have a guest.”
She started on down the stairs, but Mandy made her pause. “He ain’t gonna like it. Not one bit. He’s gonna have a pure fit. Ain’t no stableboy ever set his boots under his table before.”
She paused to giggle and cover her mouth with her hands before rushing on. “How come you’s sweet on Mastah Alton, Miss April? You could have yo’ pick o’ rich boys. How come you likes him? If you could’ve smelled him a lil’ while ago, you’d know why
I
think it’s so funny, you likin’ a man what smells like—”
“Mandy!” April stared at her incredulously. “I don’t care what you think. I’ll thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself. I happen to be quite fond of Mr. Mosely, and there is nothing wrong with his being a stable hand. It’s honest work. And speaking of work, isn’t there some you could be doing, instead of tending to my business?”
Mandy’s eyes dropped. “Yes’m,” she murmured.
“Besides,” April added, “would you rather I were interested in Graham Fletcher?”
“Oh, no ma’m!” Mandy’s eyes grew large as she shook her head from side to side. “No, ma’m! I’s scared of that man. I hears things about him. I hears he goes down to the slave shacks at their place and rapes the young girls any time he wants to. They say one was just ten years old. They say she’s gonna have a baby, and—”
“Mandy, please don’t gossip.” April was losing her patience. The girl was young, perhaps only fourteen or fifteen years old, and while she was fond of her and found her youthful innocence amusing at times, there were other occasions when she was annoying.
She gave her an affectionate pat on her shoulder and told her to run along. “And I want you to watch that tongue of yours. I don’t like the servants gossiping.”
April moved on down the stairs and turned to go to the rear of the house and speak with Posie. But his voice boomed out, “April? Is that you? Come in here, please.”