Spinning the Moon (69 page)

“I have been shopping,” he said unnecessarily.

“I can see that.”

He lifted the lid from a small hatbox and pulled out a miniature rabbit-fur hat and muff. “I thought Rebecca might like this.”

I nodded, finding it not too difficult to put a smile on my face. His enthusiasm was contagious.

“And this,” he said, pulling a slim box from his pocket, “is for you. You can have it now or wait until tomorrow.”

I almost said to wait, but instead I closed my book and held out my hand. Something mercenary in me realized that if it were valuable jewelry, I could sell it and use the funds for survival once we reached Brunswick. Slowly, I opened the box and gasped. Two beautiful teardrop earbobs rested on black velvet, each large round-cut diamond as big as a thumbnail.

“A diamond for each of our children. I hope to someday give you a necklace full of diamonds.”

I felt hot and clammy, the taste of bile thick in my mouth.
What game are you playing?
I wanted to ask him.
These are not the words of a man who doubts his wife's fidelity.
The mixed emotions of betrayal, regret, wanting, and loss coursed through me, leaving me empty and shaking.

“Are you ill?” The note of concern in his voice was unmistakable.

“I am fine. It must have been something I ate.” I managed a smile. “These are beautiful. Thank you.”

He moved to kiss me but I turned away. He kept his head lowered, his breath brushing my neck but not speaking. Then, unable to stop
myself, I leaned into him and placed my lips against his cheek like the kiss of Judas. I held my face close to his for several heartbeats, smelling his intoxicating scent and my mind reeling at his nearness, then pulled back.

His dark eyes searched mine. “You are welcome,” he said, before pulling away and standing. “The bonfires will be lit at dusk. I suggest you and Rebecca get ready so we can leave.”

“Yes. Of course.” I managed to stand on unsteady legs before leaving the room, feeling his brooding eyes on my back as I walked away.

*   *   *

The blazing lights of bonfires along the levee stretched as far down the river as I could see. The pyramid-shaped wooden log structures towered in the night sky, flames licking upward toward the stars perched on top, an almost-pagan ritual to welcome the birth of the Christ child.

Stalks of sugarcane had been piled on top of the wood, creating a rapid succession of shotlike sounds as the steam expanded inside the stalks, causing them to explode. Smoke rose from the tops of the pyramids like the wispy spirits of those no longer with us, their cloudlike arms stretching heavenward.

I kept Rebecca close to me, afraid to get separated in the crowd. John stayed at our side, his presence worrying me. I would have to find a good enough excuse to leave with Rebecca when the time came.

The smells of roasting pork and burning sugarcane thickened the chilly air, but I could not find my appetite. I made sure Rebecca ate, not knowing when we would have the chance to stop and eat again. For appearances, I accepted a tin plate heaped with food, although I barely managed to force down more than crumbled corn bread.

John stopped to speak with a cluster of men from neighboring plantations, and I turned quickly to disappear with Rebecca into the crowd. A hand grabbed at my arm and I twisted around in fear, keeping Rebecca behind my skirts. I let out my breath in relief when I saw it was Rose.

She leaned close to me to be heard over the noise of the people and the bonfire. “I sprinkled them eggshells over Master Philip's grave. The man who done kilt him be revealed. My signs say it be tonight.”

Rebecca pulled at my skirts, diverting my attention. “Mama, can I have some saltwater taffy? I promise I will not be messy.”

I answered her question, and when I turned back to Rose, she had gone.

Clutching Rebecca's hand tightly, I began to weave in and out of the crowd, hoping to make it difficult for John to spot us. Because of his height, I had no problems locating him and made sure I stayed far away from him.

I patted the bulge in my skirt pocket, taking comfort in the coins in the leather pouch. Judge Patterson had sold my necklace in New Orleans for a very large sum and had visited Whispering Oaks as promised the previous week to give me the proceeds.

I spotted Rose again and approached her, my question about her words ready on my tongue. As I stood in front of her, her gaze fell behind me, her eyes wide with fear. Pushing Rebecca behind me again, I turned to stand face-to-face with Marguerite.

Straightening my back, I said, “You are not welcome here. Surely Belle Meade has their own bonfire.”

Her green eyes smoldered in the light from the fire, making them seem to flicker with their own internal flame. “Dr. Lewiston sent me with a message for you. He is waiting for you at Belle Meade in his office behind the house. He says you will know what it is about.”

I stared at her for a long moment, wondering why Daniel would have thought to trust her to deliver the message.

As if reading my mind, she said, “He trusts me not to speak of this to anyone else.” She narrowed her eyes. “He says your husband is too suspicious, which is why the doctor did not come tonight. He did not want to draw attention to you or to him. He says it is best if you leave tonight from Belle Meade. Take your horse, and he will make arrangements to return her before anyone notices she is gone.”

I looked at her closely, to see if I could determine how much she really knew about our plans. But her face was inscrutable, the only movement that of her flickering green eyes. “But why would he send you? He could have given anybody a note.”

She grinned in the firelight, her eyes receding into shadows. “Because he knew that if John saw us talking, he would never suspect that I was here to help you.”

I thought for a long moment. Everything she had said made sense,
although I still had misgivings. But if she knew of our plans, Daniel must have trusted her enough to tell her. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to think, and when I opened them I knew. This could be my one chance to escape, and I owed it to Rebecca and my unborn child to do whatever was necessary.

“All right,” I said, keeping Rebecca behind me. “I will go to him.” I took a few steps back to separate us, then turned toward the house.

We walked quickly through the grass, one hand clutching Rebecca's and my other holding up my skirts so I could go faster. “I have a surprise for you,” I said to the child running at my side.

“A surprise?” Her eyes widened with excitement.

“Yes. We are going on a journey. Just you and me.”

Her face fell. “But what about Papa? Will he not be lonely?”

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. “He will miss you, but he will be keeping busy with business matters. He will want you to have fun, though. And Dr. Lewiston will be with us for a little while.”

She nodded but did not say anything else, her young mind seemingly immersed in thought.

We ran into the house and grabbed the satchel I had packed for the journey, then raced out the back door toward the stables. Jezebel greeted me with a soft whinny as I set about saddling her in the semidarkness. Finally, I reached for Rebecca and hoisted her onto the horse, then climbed up behind her. With a gentle kick on Jezebel's flank, we left the stables, circled around the house, and headed toward Belle Meade.

T
he breeze off the Mississippi picked up, lifting my cape and rustling the leaves beneath us like old voices. I stayed far away from the levee until I was certain we would not be seen by any of the people from Whispering Oaks, then climbed the levee road. The bonfires lit my way, and I kept the hood over my face and my cloak wrapped around Rebecca to keep us hidden. I did not once look back—whether to test my resolve or because I had no desire to see it again, I could not say. Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

I slowed as we approached the lane leading to Belle Meade. No lamps were lit within the house, nor were torches blazing on the outside of the house and grounds. The windows were dark indentations on the faded white of the house, and the front doorway gaped darkly like an open mouth, lending it the appearance of an empty skull. I shivered, gooseflesh rippling up my arms, and hugged Rebecca close to me.

Long arms of clouds reached around the full moon in a celestial embrace, lighting our way while casting sporadic shadows. Jezebel picked her way across the side of the house with its barren garden, and to the large brick-and-frame cottage in the rear that housed Daniel's medical practice.

I spied a light in the window of the office with a surge of relief. I slid off the horse, then took Rebecca and Samantha from the horse and tied Jezebel's reins to a tree. Taking Rebecca's hand, I went to the door of the cottage.

I knocked loudly and waited for an answer. After several minutes, I knocked again, but heard only silence. Then, to my surprise, Rebecca turned the latch and opened the door.

A small lamp burned on a table in what appeared to be a waiting room. This was the oldest portion of the cottage and consisted of three brick walls. The fourth wall, part of the newer addition and consisting
of frame and plaster, had a wooden door built in the middle, apparently leading to an examining room. A group of chairs clustered together on a braided rug, and a fireplace, devoid of fire, covered an entire side of the room. “Daniel?” I called, my voice loud in the empty room.

Rebecca stepped past me to a large music box on a pedestal table. I gave a start as I recognized it as my wedding gift to John and Elizabeth. Curious, I walked toward it and opened the lid, startled to recognize the bright, tinny song that floated up to me.

Rebecca stood next to me and began to hum the odd, off-key melody, and it hit a strange chord in me. I thought back on all of Elizabeth's doctor's visits and the drawer full of licorice sticks and Rebecca's familiarity with this song, and I knew.
Elizabeth was not running away with Philip, was she, Daniel? And the child she carried was yours.
I recalled Clara's lamentations of her own barren state, and wondered if she knew about Elizabeth and Daniel, and I prayed she did not. The knowledge would be too hard to bear. I glanced down at Rebecca and tried to see Daniel in her face, but could not.

I noticed a door on the far side of the room and knocked on it, calling Daniel's name. Unease settled in my belly when I again heard no response. I pushed open the door farther and it opened slightly, then hit something solid that was blocking it. Peering inside, I saw Daniel Lewiston lying on the floor, a thin trickle of blood seeping from his forehead. His body was wedged behind the door, making it nearly impossible to open.

“Where is Dr. Lewiston, Mama?”

Forcing my voice to remain calm, I said, “I am going to find out. But I need you and Samantha to sit down in that chair while I look for him, all right? And promise me that you will not go anywhere.”

Solemnly, she nodded, then settled herself and her large rag doll into a chair.

With all of my might, I pushed on the door and managed to open it a little more, giving me enough room to squeeze through the doorway. The only illumination came from a flickering candle on the desk, casting thick shadows in the across the room. I knelt by Daniel on the floor and lifted his head.

I called his name and pressed my fingers to his neck. His pulse was
faint and erratic, but at least he was still alive. I needed to get help, for I could not tend to his injuries alone.

Leaning over him, I whispered, “Daniel, I have to leave you to get help. I promise to be back as quickly as I can.” Gently I lowered his head, then took off my cloak and put it on him, using a portion of it to pillow his head.

As I stood, I spotted a movement in the shadows and I held up my arm in defense. “John!” I cried. To my shock and horror, I saw that it was not my husband who emerged from the dark corner of the room.

Clara's eyes were wild in the flickering light. “Your husband will not be able to save you now, Catherine.”

I ignored her, not quite understanding yet. “Clara, Daniel is hurt. I must go get help.” My voice faded as I spied the mallet in her hand and it became all too clear as to how Daniel had been hurt.

I barely recognized the voice coming from the mousy Clara that I knew. “Men are so weak. I knew it was only a matter of time before Daniel would transfer his affection for Elizabeth to you. You are more alike than you think, you know. You attract men like bees to honey. Just like her.”

“Clara, you are confused. There is nothing between Daniel and me. He was only helping me escape. . . .” A sick feeling spilled itself in my belly. I was escaping John because I thought he had harmed Elizabeth and Philip, and meant to harm me. But Clara had just struck Daniel, perhaps with the intent to kill him. “Did you . . .” I swallowed. “Did you hurt Elizabeth?”

She threw back her head and laughed an evil laugh I would have never thought her capable of. “Of course I did. She was carrying the baby that was meant for me and taking what was mine, as you are trying to do now. I will never let that happen.”

Daniel moaned and I looked down at him. “If you care anything for your husband, you will let me seek help.”

She also glanced at Daniel and her lower lip quivered. “He does not love me. He never has. I had once hoped that my love would be enough.”

She looked back to me, and the wild cast was in her eyes again. “I wanted you to go away before Daniel noticed you. I tried to warn you away. Marguerite helped—locked you in the attic and put the snake in
your room. But
I
put the doll in the pond. I knew how you let your little boy die. You all thought I was not smart, but I am. Everyone knows to stay away from oleander leaves, but you never seemed to understand. If only you had not looked so much like her . . .”

Tumbling images crowded my mind as I tried to make sense of her words. Acid churned in my stomach as I realized my own folly. In my haste to get away from the one person who could protect me, I had run straight into the arms of the one set to destroy me.

I forced my voice to stay strong. “And what of Philip? Did he have a part in any of your plans?”

“That fool. I told him that we would help him get rid of John if he would get rid of you. You are the reason my Daniel will not love me and you need to be gone. Like Elizabeth.”

I tried to speak rationally with her, make her talk of her plans to get her to calm down. “But why would Philip agree to such a thing?”

“Greed. It is as deadly a sin as lust. His parents had disowned him and he needed money to leave the country. Seems he knew too much about some lynchings.” She slid the mallet so that her hands were on the pole near its head.

Her eyes brightened and she appeared completely normal, her tone of voice no different from when we were sitting in my parlor and drinking tea. But her words chilled me to the bone.

“You were supposed to take a tumble from the carriage, and when that failed, he set the fire in the mill to distract everyone, and then he waited in the house for you. But the man was weak, like all men, and he could not harm you. He was supposed to lock you in the room after Marguerite put the snake in there and then stop anybody from helping you. He had brought a gun, hoping John would come to your rescue so he could kill him.”

She shook with fury, the knuckles of the hand gripping the mallet turning white. “But he could not bear the thought of being responsible for your death. So he left, the coward. I had no choice but to kill him. He was of no use to me if he would not get rid of you. But he knew enough of my plans to ensure he would not live long to tell.” She grinned a feral smile, her white teeth flashing in the dimness. “I killed him right where you are standing now and where Daniel stood not
more than an hour ago. And then Marguerite helped me dump him in your pond, where we hoped you would find him. That was the night Marguerite laid the conjure ball on your bed, too. And now we will see that its prophecy will come true.”

She looked down at the worn mallet in her hand as if contemplating how heavy a blow it would take to fell me. Then her eyes sought mine again. “I know you found the secret stairs in the house, but you never found the hidden rooms. Marguerite and I would hide in them and listen to every word you said. Or pretend to be a ghost for Rebecca. That is how I knew things. But you never suspected, did you? You were too busy trying to get Daniel to fall in love with you. That is how I know that you and Daniel are planning to run away tonight together. But I cannot let that happen.”

She took a step toward me, but froze at the tapping on the door.

“Mama? I am scared out here by myself. Who are you talking to?”

I threw myself at the blocked door, desperate to keep her away. “Run, Rebecca, run! Go find your papa—anybody. Get help. Now!”

“Mama?” Her voice was full of questions and uncertainty.

Clara moved quickly toward me but tripped on Daniel, falling on her knees.

Frantically, I turned back to the partially open door, blocking it with my body. “Rebecca, do it now. Please. Just run—run as far as you can and hide.”

“Mama?”

“Do it!”

I heard her run across the room and then fling the front door open before I turned to face Clara. She had regained her balance and was now advancing on me.

“She cannot hide from me. Marguerite will find her eventually. But it is you and your lover I need to deal with now.”

I backed up against the door. “Why would you want to hurt an innocent child?”

Clara's mouth erupted in a bitter laugh. “There is no such thing as an innocent child, is there? Especially not that one. Daniel might not be her father”—she shrugged, looking incongruous with the mallet clutched in her hand—“but it is quite certain that John is not, either.”

Fear and despair began winning out over courage and I had to choke back sobs. “Please—please do not hurt her. She is just a child.”

“You are not really in a position to tell me what I can and cannot do, now, are you? At first she was merely a means to an end. I thought if something happened to her, surely you would leave. But now she has been here and seen things. She knows my voice.”

I said a silent prayer that Rebecca had listened to me and had hidden herself far away from the cottage.

“You are making a terrible mistake. Daniel is only helping me escape—he is not coming with me. There is nothing between us.”

With a hiss, she threw a crumpled letter at me. It hit my shoulder before falling on the rug. “That is a farewell note he wrote to me. He was not planning on coming back.”

Rage seemed to flood her features as she raised the mallet over her head with both arms. With a grunt, she swung at me, narrowly missing my head as I ducked. It slammed the door closed while leaving a splintery scar in the wood panel.

I ran to the desk while glancing frantically around the room for a weapon with which to defend myself, but to no avail. Too late, I looked up to see Clara hoisting the mallet over her head again, its thick end aimed at my skull. Seeing no other recourse, I threw myself at her, my head hitting her forcibly in the chest, pushing her backward and making her grunt. The mallet struck my back with a glancing blow, knocking the wind out of me momentarily.

She fell backward and I on top of her, the mallet hitting the floor behind us with a solid
thud
. We both grappled to stand and find the weapon first. My hands settled around the smooth wood of the stick before I felt Clara's nails claw into the tender skin at the back of my neck as she tried to pull me away.

Her hands slid down to the neckline of my dress and I heard a loud rending of fabric as my dress tore away, taking Clara with it. I struggled to a stand, surprised at the heaviness of the mallet. Breathing deeply, I said, “I do not want to hurt you. If you cooperate with me and go with me to find help for Daniel, I will see that you get the help you need. You have endured a lot, Clara. There are many people who will understand and will come to your aid.”

Her thin brown hair had come loose from our struggle and now hung raggedly over her face and shoulders. I forced myself to count my heartbeats as I waited for her answer.

As before, I witnessed her rage and jealousy feed her muscles as she came at me again. “I have lost everything, and somebody has to pay!” Her fingers flew to my throat and she began to squeeze the breath from me. Still, I clung to the mallet, not yet willing to use it. The light began to dim from my eyes, and for a moment I was tempted to let the battle I had been fighting for so long be over. My battle for survival had been a futile, uphill struggle, and I was ready to put the load down and be done with it.