The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) (16 page)

“Don’t ask me to say the words, Stuart.
It isn’t fair. Not with you leaving. Not when you’re going home to your wife.”

He scowled. “Fine. Don’t say the words,
then. It will make what I’m about to say easier for me.”

She jerked her chin. “Say what you have
to say and leave.”

“If I could, I would ask you to marry me
and take you away from all this backbreaking work and sweat and dirt.”

Cat frowned. She loved working the land.
The dirt didn’t bother her. She was working for Henry Jr.’s future. But Stuart
didn’t know that. He didn’t know that the little boy he often carried across
his shoulders, or held in his lap while sitting on the porch in the lazy
twilight, was flesh of her flesh.

“I understand, Stuart.”

“My wife is not an affectionate woman.
She is barren, and I believe that has made her indifferent toward me. I am not
proud of the fact that I have not been faithful to her.”

“I’m sure you tried to be.”

His mustache twitched. “Thank you for
your confidence. Unfortunately, I haven’t tried very hard.”

Cat saw no humor in his flippant reply.
Riley was the one thing she’d come to count on. She’d expected him to ask her
to marry him someday. That’s why she’d allowed his continued presence in her
life. If he loved her enough to marry her, she could finally have a life of her
own. Security. Respectability. But that dream was now impossible. She thought
back on the last few years of hoping for a proposal and felt like a fool.

“Cat, I--I want to ask you something. I--I
want you to come to Chicago with me.”

Cat’s jaw went slack. “What do you mean?
You just said you’re married.”

His gaze never faltered. “I know. I can’t
make you my wife. But I’m offering you a life away from this drudgery. I’ll buy
you a home of your own and take care of you as though you were my wife. Any
children born of the union would be given my name.”

Any children born of
the union?
“What about your wife?” Cat released a short laugh. “Do you
honestly believe she’s going to stand for her husband keeping another woman
right under her nose?”

“Chicago is a big city.”

“No city is so big that a wife will put
up with people laughing behind her back. Or worse yet, pitying her.”

“Believe me,” Stuart drawled, “she won’t
be pitied. Sarah is quite wealthy and has many admirers of her own.” His arms
tightened and he pulled her closer. “I don’t care about your bloodline, or if
you were another man’s slave. All I know is that I love you and this is the
only way I can have you in my life.”

Cat observed him with frank appraisal.
“If you didn’t know what I was to Camilla’s father, would you still ask this of
me?”

His averted gaze told her all she needed
to know. Anger snapped through her. How would this relationship be any
different than the one she had endured at the hands of Henry Sr.?

She pushed at his arms and backed away.
“You may say I am no different to you than a white woman, but your actions say
differently. You would never insult someone like Camilla by asking her to be
your mistress, yet you don’t hesitate to do so with me. I’d be nothing more to
you than I was to Henry.”

Anger flashed in Stuart’s eyes and Cat’s
stomach tightened, ancient fears igniting within her. She wanted to cower, to
run,
to
fight. But she stood her ground and watched in
wary readiness as he stepped toward her.

“Maybe, if you were a virgin, I wouldn’t
ask you to be my mistress,” he conceded. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t lessen
my love for you. I would marry you if I could.”

“So you say.”

A frustrated growl rumbled deep in his
throat. He pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his in one swift
movement. Cat didn’t fight him.

“I know you love me,” Stuart whispered,
his voice filled with passion.

“Oh, Stuart.” She
lay
her head against his chest. “I do care for you. But I can’t leave Penbrook.
It’s my home.”

Stuart gripped her arms and looked her in
the eye. “A home where you are a virtual prisoner, a slave, Cat.
Nothing more than a possession.
You don’t owe Camilla
anything. You’ve made a success of this plantation when practically every other
planter around here was either burned out during the war or became so poor they
can barely scratch out a living. Penbrook is thriving. Camilla will be the
queen of the county if she keeps up the sharecropping. She and Thomas can marry
and raise Hank as their own.”

Cat bristled. “Thomas doesn’t love
Camilla.” And there was no way she’d allow Camilla to raise her son.

“There are other reasons to marry a
woman.”

“Oh? And what were the reasons you
married your wife, Stuart? Is she rich? Beautiful?” She didn’t even try to hide
her contempt. Let him rescind his offer. She didn’t need to be another man’s
whore.

He offered her a sheepish grin. “I
married Sarah at my father’s suggestion. He was in the newspaper business, and
Sarah’s dad was in publishing. It seemed a good match. At the time.” He slipped
his arm around her waist and pulled her close again. Inches from her face, he
looked deeply into her eyes. “Please say yes.”

 
“I don’t know, Stuart. I just can’t leave
on a whim.” How could she tell him what was really keeping her at Penbrook?
That little Henry was her child. That she could never take him away from his
inheritance.

For the first time a hint of doubt
niggled at her. What if Thomas and Camilla were to marry? Staying at Penbrook
would be intolerable. Perhaps she could take Henry with her after all. Penbrook
would still be his. He could come back when he was grown.

“Look, I’m not asking you to come with me
tomorrow. It’ll take a few weeks for me to settle in, take care of business,
and find you a place to live. But if you say yes, I will send for you when the
time is right.”

Cat clenched her fists so tightly her
broken nails dug into her palms. “I–I have to think about it.”

And think about it she did. All the way
back
to the house. To leave the South and move
north.
. .to Chicago.
To finally get away
from the land of her oppression.
And from Camilla.

Her growing enthusiasm at the
possibilities was dulled by only one thought. If she left, Thomas would
certainly marry Camilla. Then again, Cat could never have him anyway. He knew
the truth about her and had already made his contempt clear.

When they neared the house, the sun had
completely descended, leaving the earth covered in darkness. Stuart declined a
dinner invitation. “I have to return tonight. My train leaves early in the
morning.” Without waiting for permission, he pulled her close and kissed her long
and passionately.

Cat wrapped her arms around his neck,
snuggled closer, and allowed his embrace.

“I’ll send for you in a few weeks.”

“I haven’t agreed to go.”

He gave her another long look. “You will.
You hate the memories in that house. This may not be the kind of future you
envisioned for us. But be honest for once. You’ve been waiting for me to take
you away from this place, haven’t you?”

Cat fought for the gumption to order him
away from Penbrook once and for all. “You seem very sure of yourself.”

“I’m sure of you.” With that, he mounted
his horse and cantered off.

Cat watched him ride away,
then
turned to walk into the house. She stopped short at the
sight of Shaw standing in the shadows of the porch.

“Mercy, Shaw. You nearly scared me to
death.” How much had he heard? “What do you mean lurking around, listening to
people’s private conversations?”

“What are peoples
doin
’
havin
’
private talks
wifout
first
makin
’
sure ain’t nobody on da porch?”

Cat scowled. For all of his ignorant
grammar and lack of education, Shaw had a pretty quick wit and a morality about
him that always made her feel a little unclean.

“Well, you should have stepped out. That
would have been the polite thing to do.”

He shrugged. “Seems like I’d a been
interruptin
’ somethin’ special.”

Cat plopped down on the bench Shaw had
crafted soon after his recovery from the hog attack. They had spent many
evenings together on that bench, enjoying the cool of the night.

“It wasn’t really anything special,
Shaw.” She turned her gaze toward the man whose presence filled her with such
confusion. Her defenses rose. “I guess you think I have no business kissing a
man I don’t love.”

“Ain’t
none
of
my business, Miss Cat.”

“Stop calling me that. You know I was
just as much a slave as you were. Technically, we’re no different.”

He made no move to contradict her.
Irritation bit her hard and her defenses rose. Why didn’t he state the obvious
differences? She was almost white, while he was black as pitch. She was
educated. To be sure, her station in life was higher than his.
But only because she lived as a white woman.
Shaw was one of
the few people who knew her secret.

“You think we’re no different?”

Her snappy tone must have taken him by
surprise. “What you mean, miss?”

“I said we’re no different and you never
said one word.”

He expelled a heavy breath. “One thing
I’s learned, Miss Cat, is da Bible say day ain’t no difference ’twixt any of
us.”

“What do you mean? That God agrees with
the slaveholders? That one drop of Negro blood makes us equal?”

By the light of the moon, Shaw leaned in
close, the whites of his eyes startling against skin made even darker by the
night. He took her hand and pressed it against his chest. Cat’s pulse picked up
at his closeness. She tried to pull away, but he held her palm there. “Feel
dat?”

Confused, Cat couldn’t look away from the
dark brown eyes. Warmth flooded her stomach. “F–feel what?”

“My heart beating fast-like.” His whisper
sent a shiver up her spine. “
I’s
a man. You
is
a woman. Dere
ain’t
no
denyin
’ it. It
ain’t
about color,
Miss Cat. Dere
ain’t
no mans nor
womens
,
no black nor white. In Jesus,
we’s
da same.
We’s
equal in God’s eyes.”

“Religion again, huh?” Swift
disappointment shot through her. Why did he always have to speak of ‘the good
Lawd’ this and Jesus that?

“Not religion, Miss Cat.” He turned her
loose. “Jus’ de truth.”

“It’s only truth in your mind. If you
honestly believe there is no difference between black and white, men and women,
then you’re nothing but a fool.”

“De world don’ think de way de
Lawd
do.” He smiled, his eyes sad. “I’d rather be a fool
for
believin
’ what de Bible say
dan
agreein
’ wif folks who don’ know no better.”

Cat sniffed and jerked her head. She stared
up at the moon. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know any better.”

He smiled and stood, holding out his hand
to assist her up. Surprise raised her brow. He’d never shown such familiarity.
But as she took his rough, calloused hand, she suddenly didn’t care. “Do you
have a family, Shaw?”

“A
fambly
?”

Heat rushed to her face and she was glad
for the cover of darkness to hide her blush. “A wife, children?”

“Oh, no. De only woman I ever loved was
my ma, and
dey
sold me
away when I was jus’ a boy.”

“How old are you?”

He shrugged. “Somewheres ’bout thirty,
near as I can
figger
.”

“And you’ve never been in love?”

“Not ’til now.” He tightened his grip on
her hand and Cat felt the sheer force of his admission.

For a second, her breath refused to come.
They had never spoken of their feelings. Shaw was her friend, the one who
understood her. The one she could always count on. But she could
never.
. .

She looked into his dear face and tears
misted her eyes. “Oh, Shaw.”

“Don’ feel bad for
ol
’
Shaw. I
knows
you be too good for de likes of me. I
jus’
couldn
’ be
tellin
’ no
lies.”

“Too good for you, Shaw? I thought we
were all equal.” Cat nudged him with her elbow, trying to lighten the tension.

A deep chuckled rumbled as he stared up
into the star-filled sky. “See, Lawd? She be
listenin
’
after all.” He turned to her and dropped her hand. “
G’night
,
Miss Cat. Oh, and about dat
cap’n
.
. .”

“Yes?”

“Love ain’t selfish.”

“What are you saying?”

Shaw shrugged. “If de
cap’n
truly loved ya, he wouldn’t ask ya to live
dat
life
o’ sin. He
be
wantin’ to use ya for his own pleasure.
Is he
thinkin
’ what’s best
fer
you?” He shook his head.

Anger flashed through Cat. Mostly because
she knew he was right. “Well, maybe I’m the one using him. Maybe I want to
leave this godforsaken place. Maybe I just want to live like a queen. Stuart is
rich, you know. I’d have my own house and basically be able to come and go as I
please.”

Shaw shook his head again.

“What?”

“You’d be more a slave
dan
ya ever been if ya do dis thing.”

“That’s my business.” Without awaiting an
answer, Cat slammed into the house and stomped upstairs to her room.

From
Camilla’s diary