The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) (19 page)

“You know I don’t mean you nothin’ but
good, beautiful woman.”

Andy bristled. “Leroy, if you know Ella
very well, you know she works for religious people who wouldn’t want her to
have a man in the house.”

He laughed again.
A
laugh that was starting to grate on Andy’s nerves.
“I don’t see no one
around here but you.”

“That’s not the point. If Buck finds out
about you, Ella will lose her job.”

Ella gasped. “You think so?”

“You know it’s true. Don’t act like you
don’t.”

She pulled away from Leroy and
overcompensated, landing her squarely in Andy’s arms. She pressed her head
against his chest and sighed. “Oh, Andy.
You trying to save
me from getting canned?
Thank you.”

Leroy reached for her, but she yanked her
arm away. “Go home, Leroy. I can’t be losing my job.”

“Woman, you’re driving me crazy!” Leroy
plunked his fedora on his head and stomped down the steps. “Don’t expect me to
keep coming around after this. I’m through with you this time. For good!”

“Good riddance,” she said through a yawn.

Andy slid his arms behind her knees and
swung her off her feet. She was half passed out and he didn’t relish trying to
coax her down the hall to her room. This seemed easier.

He maneuvered around her to open the
door. Carried her across the room, stooped, and struggled to pull down her
covers. Finally, he laid her down, slipped off her shoes, and pulled the quilt
to her shoulders.

With a sigh, she snuggled into her
pillow.

When he reached the door, her soft voice
called to him. He turned.

“Thank you, Andy. Ain’t no one took care
of me like this since before my mama died.”

“It’s okay. Good night, Ella.”

“Night.” By her mumbled reply, Andy knew
she’d most likely be asleep before he reached his own room.

Chicago

Lexie tossed on her bed until the
bed clothes
were wound tightly around her legs. She tugged
and wiggled until they came free. Fresh tears slid down her face. She reached
for her handkerchief on the nightstand and blew her nose.

Suddenly the tiny presence inside her
protested the lack of food in her stomach. She slung off the wrinkled sheets
and
beelined
for the bathroom, retching, dry heaving,
then collapsing into a heap on the bathroom floor, sobbing her misery and
loneliness.

After a time, she heard the creak of the
door. Mama knelt beside her and gathered her into warm, comforting arms. A
gentle hand caressed her head. “Oh, my baby girl.”

“What am I going to do, Mama? Andy doesn’t
want me anymore.”

“Did he say that?”

“All but.”

“Well, ‘all but’ ain’t saying, now, is
it?” Mama adjusted so she faced Lexie. “I ’
spect
he
don’ want ya where ya might get hurt.”

“So he says.”

“Well, now. Den ya jus’
gots
to trust him.”

Lexie gave a short laugh and pulled away,
standing. “Sure, Mama. I’ll wait and trust him.”

“Now, don’ be disrespectful.” She
grunted. “Honey, help
yo
’ mama up from dis here
flo
’.” She heaved up from the floor and draped a flabby arm
around Lexie’s shoulders. “Come on. I’s gonna
hep
you
back to
yo
’ bed an’ tuck ya in jus’ like a little
lamb.”

Lexie allowed it. It was nice to be taken
care of. If only Andy could find it in his heart to be protective toward her.
Toward their baby.
If only he still wanted her.

Georgia

A crash woke Andy from a sound sleep. He
sat bolt upright. Exasperated, he flung off the covers. That Ella. She was
going to get herself fired. He opened the bedroom door. Rough hands grabbed him
either side of the
door frame
.

“I told you this wasn’t over, nigger.”
The voice came from behind a white hood, but there was no mistaking the
hate-filled eyes staring out from the holes. Sam. Hot fear seared through every
nerve in Andy’s body.

“Get him outside,” Sam ordered the two
men in white behind him.

They dragged Andy down the steps and
muscled him to the lawn. There would be no saving him this time. He was dead
for sure.

Protect
Ella, God. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt.

A dozen men, all dressed in white, let up
a roar when he appeared. A flaming
cross stood
in the
yard, burning part of Lottie’s lawn. More rough hands seized him and tore
Andy’s shirt from his body. Two men bound his wrists and slung the end of the
rope over a low-hanging branch of Lottie’s favorite maple tree. His arms burned
as the men stretched them above his head.

Relief that the rope wasn’t around his
neck quickly gave way to horror at the first snap of a bullwhip. Pain sliced
through him as his back ripped open beneath the blow. A scream tore from his
lips before he could bite it back. With the second lash, he held it in. By the
tenth, he was losing consciousness. How did his ancestors stand up under the
abuse?

The crack of a gun stopped the whipping.
“You boys get on outta here.”

“Mind your own business, sheriff. This
uppity colored needs a lesson, and we’re giving him one.”

“What’s he done?”

Silence. What a bunch of cowards.

“That’s what I figured. If you’re not
gone in the next two minutes, I’m going to arrest every last one of you.”

Slowly, mumbling, the Klan dispersed.

Andy felt the rope slacken and he would
have lost his footing had the sheriff not caught him. “Take it easy, boy. We’ll
get you to the hospital lickety-split.”

“No!”
 

“Andy, don’t be a mule.” Ella’s voice
penetrated the fuzzy darkness. “You have to go to the hospital this time. I’m
going to try to put a temporary dressing on your wounds. It’s going to hurt
like the dickens.”

At her first ministering touch, Andy
succumbed to darkness.

He awoke in the hospital, pain lacing his
body, his mind screaming against the injustice.

“Well, look who’s finally awake.”

He turned his head toward the sound of
Buck’s voice. “Sorry for bringing this to your doorstep.”

Buck nodded. “I guess it
ain’t
your fault.”

“I’ll leave as soon as I get out of
here.”

“No need for that kinda talk. ‘Sides, the
doc says you’re gonna need a few days to rest an’ make sure infection don’t set
in.”

Pain screamed through his body every
waking minute for three days. Medication kept him in and out of sleep during
that time. Finally, on the fourth day after the whipping, he woke finally
believing he might actually live through his ordeal.

He fussed incessantly to be allowed to go
home. But his requests fell on the deaf ears of every nurse attending him.
Finally, late that evening, a large, commanding black nurse brought him a set
of clothing. “Get yourself ready to go.”

“At night?”

“You want to get shot leaving the
hospital?” She pushed out her lower lip and waddled to the door. “Leaving in
the dark is your best chance of getting home without getting lynched.”

Submitting to the logic, Andy waited for
her to exit the room
,
then he dressed, eager to get
out of the sterile environment.

He couldn’t help the dread at the thought
of what might happen to him next. So far he’d been beaten practically senseless--but
he supposed he deserved that one--had almost been dragged down the road tied to
the back of a truck, and now was whipped to within an inch of his life. He
could easily have been killed all three times. Why was he still alive?

When he reached the back entrance of the
hospital, a horse and wagon stood there waiting. He vaguely recognized the
old-timer who had given him a ride his first day in Oak Junction.

“’
Evenin
’,
young feller. Ole Jeb’s here to take you home.”

“I’m obliged.” With great difficulty,
Andy climbed into the seat.

The jostling wagon took him through parts
of town he’d never seen. Nothing looked familiar, but Andy figured the old man
was just trying to avoid being seen. When they left town, suspicion began to
nip his mind.

“Where are we going?”

“Jus’
takin
’ ya
where I’s told.”

“Where’s that?”

“Miz Penbrook
tol
’
me you jus’ gonna get
yo’self
kilt if ya stay
anywheres
else. So Miz Delta done tole me, ‘Ol’ Jeb, you go
fetch that fool boy’s things and don’t you forget dem books. He gonna be
needin
’ ’em.’ So
tha’s
jus’ what
I done.”

“They moved me out to Miss Penbrook’s
without even asking?”

“I reckon. And betwixt you an’ me, it
seem like de best thing.”

“I guess.”

“
Fo
’
sho
’. No one
gonna
burn no crosses
at Miz Penbrook’s place.
No black nor
white.
Prob’ly
the only place you is gonna be safe until ya go
back to that Chi-
ca
-
gy
ya
come from.”

Andy let the man’s assessment sink in. As
long as he remained at Buck’s he’d be putting them in danger. Jeb was right.
Staying at the Penbrook plantation was the smartest choice.

They approached the enormous home beneath
the light of a large moon. A startling sense of déjà vu shook him. He pushed
the feeling aside and focused on the good fortune of staying at Penbrook. He
would get answers much faster this way.

Still, unease tightened his gut. The more
he read the diaries, the more vivid his memories had become.
The
more disturbing the questions about his childhood down here in Georgia.
Did he really want to find answers? Or, as Miss Penbrook had mentioned the day
he’d arrived, would knowledge be more of a chain around his neck?

From
Cat’s diary

I
overheard something today that could change everything. Thomas wanted to marry me
all those years ago. I’m not sure why he believes I refused him. But I am
positive Camilla knows. I have not allowed myself to be alone with Thomas, as
he vowed to marry me. I heard the words, but the joy I expected to feel at such
a declaration was absent from my heart. Oh, why? Why am I not beside myself
with happiness? Isn’t this what I’ve dreamed of for seven years? That Thomas
would marry me and take me away from here to raise our son?

Camilla
has threatened to reveal my true heritage. To tell anyone who will listen that
I’m nothing more than a former slave.
I heard
her say so to Thomas. She hates me that much.

I
must speak with her before I go. I wonder if I should I confess to Thomas that
little Henry is his son?

I’m
so confused. The only thing I am absolutely sure of is that Henry Jr. must have
what is rightfully his. I will not jeopardize his future for anything. Not even
his father.

Chapter Twelve

“What sort of fool are you, Sam?” Samuel
Andrew Dane, young Sam’s father, slammed his fist down hard on his desk,
knocking over the photograph of Mary Ann, his late wife. “If you’d killed that
boy, you’d have been arrested for murder. He isn’t like the coloreds around
here. He has connections in the North, and believe me, you’d never have gotten
away with it.”

“I know who he is, Father.” His son
glared at him, accusation shooting from his eyes. A sneer curled his lips.
“What do you think will happen when your constituents find out you fathered a
colored son?”

Samuel gathered a deep breath and sat
back. “No one needs to know. And there’s no need to harm Andy. He’s done
nothing.”

“Andy.” Sam shook his head and stared out
the window behind the desk. “Both your sons named after you. You must be so
proud of your virility. Did you know that colored gal was going to have your
child?”

“Not at first. We didn’t know for sure if
he was mine or her husband’s until a few days after his birth.”

“Yes, the resemblance is uncanny. All the
way down to the Dane cleft.” He pointed to the dimple in his own chin. “You
shame me, father. And you shame every Dane man who fought for the Confederacy.”

Samuel confronted his son’s rage and
disdain with a steady calm. Surprisingly steady. He’d always wondered how he
might react if faced with the truth. “There’s no shame in loving someone. Only
in the sin we committed.”

“Love? That
is
the sin. A white man was never meant to love a nigger. It’s
an abomination to God.” He leaned across the desk,
the look in his eye dangerous and filled with hatred. “And the only way to
remove an abomination is through death.”

“Listen to me, Sam. Andy’s mother sent
him away to protect him and us from this scandal. Miss Penbrook brought him
back only to write her memoirs. The old lady will be dead before long, Andy
will be back in Chicago, and no one will be the wiser. Rae never told a soul,
other than Miss Penbrook, that Andy wasn’t her husband’s, although he figured
it out. But he’s dead, too, so he can’t threaten our family honor.”

Sam gave a short laugh. “Honor? What
honor?” He strode with long, hard steps to the door.

“Son, give me your word that no harm will
come to Andy from you or your Klan.”

“Klan? I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

“Then let me put it to you this way. If
any harm comes to Andy, you’ll be out of my will.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “You would deprive me
of my inheritance over some nigger you sired?”

“Yes.”

“You disgust me.”

“Be that as it may, I need your word.”

Sam reached for the door and spoke
through clenched teeth. “You have it.”

Relief coursed through Samuel as he
watched his son yank the door open and disappear on the other side.

He leaned back in his chair and closed
his eyes. “Rae,” he whispered. “Our sin has come back to visit our children.”

*****

Andy sat painfully in the chair next to Miss
Penbrook’s bedside, listening with fascinated horror as the pieces fell into
place at last. “So my
father.
. .wasn’t Elijah
Carmichael.” He didn’t ask it as a question, but rather stated it as a fact. A
fact he had somehow known, though exactly how he’d known evaded his conscious
mind. “I’m half white.”

“That’s right. And Elijah knew it. That’s
why he hated you so much.” She peered closer with those eyes that seemed to see
everything. “Do you remember the beatings he used to give you?”

Andy shook his head. “Not really.”

She nodded. “Just as well. I don’t
suppose you remember much about your life before you went to be with the
Rileys
, do you?”

“No, ma’am. I only remember images of
Mama crying and putting me on the train. I remember coming here, and sitting in
the kitchen eating cookies.”

“Yes, you came here often.”

“I remember.”

“Your mama came to me for help. Elijah
was drunk and threatening to kill you.”

Andy swallowed hard. “Not much has
changed. People down here are still trying to kill me.”

“But the
Rileys
treated you well?”

A smile touched his lips. “I suppose I
have you to thank for that.”

“Put two and two together, did you?”

“Sort of. But who is Captain Stuart
Riley?”

“Daniel’s father. He died the year before
you went to live with Daniel and Lois.”

“They treated me like one of their own.
And of course, you’re aware that I work for Daniel Riley’s publication.”

“The
Observer.
I know. I also know how hard you tried not to.” She let out a laugh. “I
admired you for wanting to find a position at a different paper instead of
letting Daniel give you work.”

“It was either that or never be able to
take care of my wife.” He gave a bitter shake of his head. “Yet look where I
ended up.”

“Daniel says you’re the best writer and
reporter he’s ever worked with.”

“That’s very generous of him.”

“It’s more than generosity. He wouldn’t
say so if it weren’t true.” Miss Penbrook’s brow creased. “Why haven’t you
introduced him to your wife after all these years?”

“Mr. Riley told you that?”

She shook her head. “Lois did. She says
it’s like not knowing her own daughter-in-law.”

Guilt gnawed at him. “I visit sometimes.”
A couple times a year, if he was being honest.

“But you don’t share your life with
them.”

“Doesn’t show much gratitude on my part,
does it?”

“Daniel and Lois don’t want gratitude.
They want love. They think you’re the prodigal son.”

Andy gave a short laugh. “I’m no one’s
son.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. He’d felt like an orphan
since he was ten years old?
No mother nor
father to hold
him in the night. To love him, teach him, reassure him. Mr. and Mrs. Riley were
wonderful people and had raised him in a loving home, but a black boy being
raised by a white family, even in the North, didn’t bode well. He knew he was
different. Knew he didn’t belong. And most folks treated him like a servant
boy.

Once they reached high school, even he
and Jonas had drifted apart--Jonas to his sports and Andy to his academics.
From that time on, he’d been utterly alone.

He looked back to Miss Penbrook. Her
frail chest rose and fell in sleep.

So much for asking her
whether Cat married Thomas or went to Stuart.

He’d have to look to the
diaries.
. .

1867

“I heard you talking to Thomas, Camilla.”
Cat seethed at the look of innocence on the woman’s face.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“So what are you saying? That I was
imagining things
? That Thomas
didn’t
want to marry me? Perhaps I should go to him. I’m sure he’d
be more than happy to explain it all to me.”

Camilla scowled. “Fine. I’ll tell you.
Though I don’t see why it matters anymore.” She sipped her cup of coffee and
stared over the brim of her cup, a piece of the fine china she’d received from
her mother after her death.

Cat shook off the memory of Madeline
sipping from a similar cup. The woman’s grace, dignity, and kindness were all
things Camilla lacked. It took great effort to keep from slapping the cup out
of her hand. Miss Maddy’s last request still lingered in her mind. But that
promise couldn’t keep her from hating Camilla at that moment. “Tell me.”

“The day after the
incident
in the barn, Thomas found me walking in the woods that
separated our property from his uncle’s. I suspect he was hoping you’d be
there.”

But she couldn’t have been. Henry had
chained her in the barn. He’d stripped her, beaten and raped her. He’d kept her
chained for days with no food, allowing only small amounts of water, until
Madeline had threatened to disgrace him with a divorce.

She shuddered at the memories she had
tried so hard to shove to the back of her mind. Without Madeline sneaking her
food and water, she was sure she wouldn’t have lived through those days. “What
did Thomas say?”

“He asked me to speak to you for him.
To meet him in the barn that night.
He planned to steal you
away to Canada, passing you off as a white girl so he could marry you.”

“And you didn’t tell him that your father
had chained me in the barn like a dog?” Cat’s bitterness grew with each word.

Camilla shook her head.

“I despise you.”

“And I despise you.” Her steely voice
commanded Cat’s attention. The two women were caught in a trancelike state,
neither speaking or
moving, barely breathing.

Finally, Camilla broke the silence.
“Here’s the way I see it. You have two men vying for you. I want one of them.
So you must choose the other.”

A short laugh spurted from Cat’s mouth.
“Oh, must I? And what makes you think I must?”

Camilla’s full lips tilted in a humorless
smile. “Because if you take Thomas away from me, I’ll tell everyone Hank is
your son. I swear I’ll do it.”

Trembling with anger, Cat clenched her
fists to keep from scratching Camilla’s eyes out. “I knew you were vindictive,
Camilla, but I never thought you’d force a man who doesn’t love you into
marriage.”

Camilla’s eyes narrowed. “I have no
intention of forcing him. But with you gone, he’ll naturally turn to me. Don’t
you think?”

“I can see you’ve thought this out.”

“I have. Quite carefully.”

Cat fingered the rim of her cup. “Stuart
doesn’t want to marry me.”

“Don’t lie to me. Thomas found the telegram
where you left it when Hank had his accident.”

Cat shot her an outraged gaze. How dare
they invade her privacy in such a manner? “Did you see any mention of marriage
in the message?”

A frown creased Camilla’s brow. “Well,
no, now that you mention it. But he said he would be arranging for two tickets
to Chicago after Christmas. I assumed he meant to take you home as his wife.”

Cat released a bitter, cold laugh. “Well,
you’re wrong. Stuart is married already. To a wealthy woman who doesn’t love
him and cannot give him children.”

A gasp escaped Camilla as the news
penetrated her sense of propriety. “Does he mean to divorce her in order to
marry you?”

“No.”

“Well, then, I don’t understand why he is
coming to visit.”

“Oh, Camilla, really. Sometimes your stupidity
is difficult to believe. Stuart is planning to buy a lovely little home in
which I will live as his mistress. Any children I may have will be given his
name.”

Camilla’s eyes grew round and her mouth
formed an O.

“So you see, whether you expose me here
or I return to Chicago with Stuart, I will be scandalized.”

Recovering, Camilla raised her brow and
gave Cat a frank stare. “Yes, but if you go north and leave Hank to be raised
by Thomas and me, he will inherit Penbrook, just as you want. Thomas will
continue sharecropping the land. Penbrook will continue to grow.”

Silence fell between them. Cat imagined
life with Thomas and Henry, but without Penbrook. She imagined life with
Stuart, without Penbrook and Henry. Both options fell like rocks in her stomach.

“You’ve given me no choice but to refuse
Thomas. However, that doesn’t mean I have to accept Captain Riley’s offer. I am
perfectly happy to let things stay as they are.”

Camilla’s face twisted with anger.

Cat rose, squared her shoulders, and
smiled to herself as she left the vile woman sitting alone. She would refuse
Thomas. And she would not tell him that Henry Jr. was actually her
son.
. .and his.

She left the kitchen at loose ends.
Normally, when she needed to think, she’d saddle a horse and head to the
fields. The sight of cotton growing, at any stage, filled her with a sense of
hope. But now the fields lay desolate, harvested, and that only depressed her.
Still, a cool autumn wind blew through an open window, beckoning her outside.
Standing on the porch, she closed her eyes and drank in the fresh, clean air,
heavy with the scent of approaching rain.

“Storm’s
brewin
’.”

She didn’t open her eyes at the sound of
Shaw’s voice. She had grown accustomed to his appearing out of nowhere and no
longer became startled. “It smells wonderful, doesn’t it?”

“It surely
do
,
Miss Cat.”

Cat opened her eyes and looked at him.
Shaw. The one person she knew loved her beyond a shadow of a doubt. His
handsome, dark features were strong, filled with honesty and faithfulness.
“Would you walk with me, Shaw?”

“Might get caught in the rain.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t.”

His thick, soft lips widened into a
smile.

Cat’s gaze rested there. “I like it when
you smile, Shaw.”

“Thank ya. I could say da same thing
about you. That is, when
ya
let
yo’self
smile.”

“When I let myself smile?” Cat gave a
laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon. We best be gettin’ to dat walk
iffen
ya don’ want to git
soakin
’
wet.”

“Let’s go, then.” Shaw’s steady strength fortified
her and she felt her optimism returning. “I, uh, heard from Captain Riley. He’s
coming for Christmas.”

“Dat so?”

“Yes.” Cat stared at the towering oaks.
“He’s ready for me to go back to Chicago with him.”

Shaw released a heavy breath and halted his
steps. He reached out and pressed a massive hand to Cat’s arm, turning her to
face him. Her heart leaped at his touch.
The same unsettling
feeling of awareness that crept over her whenever his hand brushed hers.
She absolutely could not be falling in love with Shaw of all people. She
wouldn’t allow it.