The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) (23 page)

“So, I gather she’s still living on the
land?”

Shaw scowled and released a frustrated
breath. He gave a stubborn lift of his chin. “I ain’t
tellin
’
ya one way or de other.”

“You just did. Now, if you’ll excuse me,
I’m very tired from my day. Will you please send that simple-minded little maid
up here to help me change the bedding and freshen up the room a bit?”

“Annie ain’t simple-minded, Cat. She’s
right smart.” His smug grin grated on Cat’s fragile ego.

Jealousy flowed like molten lava through
Cat’s veins. She sniffed. “Well, maybe you don’t know she’s simple-minded
because you’re even more simple than she is.”

1948

Andy’s lips twitched at Cat’s obvious
jealousy over the young maid. He closed the diary and leaned back against the
pillow, lacing his hands behind his head. He stared at the ceiling and allowed
his thoughts to take shape.

Learning that Miss Penbrook was actually
Catherina had infused Andy with the makings of a fantastic book. Miss Penbrook
had fallen in love with a black man while living with a white man. Did she
honestly want all of that coming out in a book after her death? It seemed the
old lady was finally ready to shed her false image.

But why bother at this late stage?
Everyone who mattered was gone. Or so he assumed.
Then again,
perhaps not.

His eyes grew heavy as he pondered the
possibility that some of the younger people in the diaries might still be
alive.

The next the thing he knew, a hard knock
pulled him from sleep. Sunlight streamed in through the window, and he squinted
against the glare as he sat up and called a greeting.

Delta opened the door. She frowned at his
disheveled appearance. “You sleep in your clothes, boy?”

“I fell asleep reading. Something I can
do for you?”

 
“You
gots
a
call on the telephone.”

“This early?”

She sent him a look of disdain. “It
be
nigh onto eleven o’clock. You’s
sleepin
’
the day away.”

“I worked late,” he replied with a
sheepish grin. “Do you happen to know who is calling?”

“Mr. Riley from Chicago.”

“Uncle Daniel?”

“Uncle?”

Andy’s face warmed. “I’m coming.”

On the way to the kitchen, where the only
phone in the house sat on a small table, Andy tried to come up with a
convincing argument why he should stay in Georgia a little longer.

“Hello, Uncle Daniel.”

“Andy! Wonderful to hear your voice.”

“Yes, sir. You, too.”

“How’s the research going? Are you
getting much help from Miss Penbrook?”

“More than I expected. I am also in
possession of several volumes of diaries from Miss Penbrook and two other women
who lived in the house where she was raised.”

“That’s good, Andy. Real good.”

“Yes, it is. I’m almost ready to pack
things up and come back to write the book. But I need a few more days at least.
There are some loose ends to tie up.”

“Things about Miss Penbrook, or is this
personal?”

“Part of it’s personal,” he admitted.
“I’m remembering some things about my life before I went to live with you and
Aunt Lois. I’d like the opportunity to look into it a little.”

“Well, there’s a small issue here at home
that you’re going to need to attend to as soon as possible. So let’s say I give
you one more week.”

“That should do it, sir.” Andy frowned.
“But what’s the problem back there?

“I’ll let Lexie explain that.”

“My wife?”

“Yes. A beautiful young woman and sweet
as they come. You chose well.”

Pride lifted Andy’s heart at the praise.
Still.
. . “How did the two of you meet?”

A chuckle filtered through the phone
line. “Let’s just say you have a determined woman on your hands.”

Andy laughed out loud as Daniel told him
about Lexie barging into his office. He hadn’t seen the spunky side of his wife
in years. Not since she’d lost the last baby five years ago.

“Is Lex okay, Uncle Daniel? Anything
serious I need to know about?”

“It can wait a week.” The gentle
certainty in Daniel’s voice reassured Andy. “Just finish up what you need to do
there and then come back to your wife.”

“It might not be that easy. She hasn’t
exactly been begging.”

“That’s between the two of you. But
there’s no denying Lexie’s love for you, Son.
And your love
for her.
That’s enough of a start.”

“Then maybe I haven’t completely ruined
my marriage. Thank you for calling.”

You’re welcome. Oh, and for the record,
Lexie has agreed to stay with us until you return so we can get to know her. Do
you have any objections?”

“
Lexie
does
exactly what she wants, but I have no objections, regardless.” Actually, the
news gave him a sense of relief. At least he knew she was safe and away from
Robert. “Is she there now?”

“She’s lying down resting.”

“In the middle of the day?” Alarm seized
him. Lexie had the energy of three people. The only times she’d slept during
the day were during illness and pregnancies. “Is Lexie ill? I can come home
right away.”

He hesitated, which sent Andy into a near
panic. “She was a touch under the weather earlier, but nothing a little rest
won’t take care of.”

“All right. Give her my love, will you?”

Delta entered the kitchen just as he was
replacing the receiver. “Got a call from Buck a little while ago.”

A sense of loss filled Andy when he
thought of Buck and Lottie and their children. He had never been one to form
attachments very quickly. But this family had managed to shove past his walls
and find a place in his heart. “How are they?”

“Fine. Sent you an invite for supper.”

The offer was tempting. He almost agreed
right away, but thought better of it. “I’d best not. With Sam Dane and that
Klan after me, I think I ought to stay put. I’d hate to bring any more trouble
to Buck’s doorstep.”

A frown creased Delta’s brow. “Ya think
Buck’d
let some white-hooded coward harm ya?
Rafe’s
comin
’ by to git ya.
Seven
o’clock. Sharp.”

Andy nodded. “All right, then. I’d be
happy to join them for supper.”

“Fine. I’ll ring over there and let ’em
know.”

“Thank you.”

“How’s Miss Penbrook’s story
comin
’ along?”

“The research is coming together nicely.”

Delta hesitated, drew a breath, and said
softly, “Ya wouldn’t make her out to be somethin’ wicked, would ya?”

So Delta was aware of her employer’s true
identity. Andy wondered how many others knew and kept silent. After his own
run-in with southern hospitality, he wasn’t too keen on the idea of setting
Miss Penbrook up for public speculation.

He squeezed her shoulder. “No, ma’am. I
will not do anything to malign her.”

“There you go with that fancy talk.” She
scowled. “You know I ain’t got no idea what that means.”

Andy smiled fondly at the housekeeper.
“I’ll protect her good name.”

“That’s all I’m askin’.”

“How is she today? Any chance I’ll be
able to talk to her?”

Delta shook her head. “I’m afraid she
ain’t
doin
’ too good. The doctor said she’s about to
knock on St. Peter’s gate.” A great sigh lifted her shoulders.

“I’m sorry.”

Her expression softened as she caught his
gaze. “Maybe she’ll be up to
visitin
’ with ya
tomorrow.”

Andy nodded. “I hope so.” In the
meantime, he had the diaries and half a day to work.

From
Cat’s diary

Camilla
and Thomas arrived home late from the barbeque, along with my son. Young Henry
seemed happy to see me, but I could tell he didn’t really remember me. My heart
aches at the thought that I am nothing more to him than an old memory. Perhaps
Thomas and Camilla have mentioned me over the years. But gauging from his
off-handed hello and hasty retreat to his bedroom, I am sure he has no idea
that if not for me, this land would be nothing more than cheap farmland just
like most of the plantations in rural Georgia.

Camilla
appears older than her years. She did not even pretend to be pleased to see me.
Thomas’s eyes lit up, though, and when he embraced me, he held me longer than
necessary. Camilla left the room and did not return. The atmosphere is quite
oppressive between them. Thomas does not appear to be at all happy. I am sorry
for them both.

Still,
whether they are happy or not, Henry is thriving. He’s grown into a handsome
young man with many of Thomas’s characteristics and features. I am amazed that
Camilla has not figured out that her husband is Henry Jr.’s true father.

Tomorrow
I will search out Madame Flora. I pray she has the ability to relieve me of my
problem.

I
only hope Shaw never discovers what I’m planning to do.

Part
Four: Light

And
he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the
light. (
Psalm 37:6
)

Chapter Fifteen

From
Cat’s diary

1879

It seemed to Cat that all she’d done,
from the moment her eyes opened this morning, was smile. Oh, it was good to be
home. Camilla’s frail excuse for not sending someone to meet her at the train
station fell on disbelieving ears--
Thomas’s
and Cat’s.
But Camilla insisted the letter specified dates in the following week, and Cat
didn’t have the energy to call her a liar.

Thomas had saddled two horses and whisked
Cat away to tour the fields, now empty but for the occasional stray bulb of
cotton. “Oh, Thomas. You’ve done marvelous things with this land. I’m so grateful.”

He drew a deep breath and stared across
the fields with a pensive gaze.

“What is it?” Cat asked.

A shrug lifted his shoulders. “I always
thought I’d have land of my own some day. If the war hadn’t come, I’d have
inherited my father’s lands. But the Yankees stole that from me.”

“You know you’re welcome here for as long
as you live.”

“I do know that. But this land will
always be Hank’s, as it should be. It already is, for all intents and purposes.
The legal documents have been drawn up and ownership has transferred to him.”

“Why don’t you get Henry to deed a few
acres to you and Camilla? It’s only right, after all. Camilla’s father
originally willed her a tidy sum. But of course the war cleaned out all his
assets except the plantation. By rights, she should get part of Penbrook as
compensation.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t take
Hank’s land. I’m considering something, though. Camilla has no idea, but I’ve
been saving all these years, Cat. I’ve put away enough to buy enough cattle and
horses to start my own ranch.”

“Cattle? But Thomas, you can’t allow
cattle to graze in these parts. You’ll be run out of Georgia on a rail.”

Tenderness softened his expression. “I’m
talking about going to Texas, where my sister and her husband live. Mother moved
there during the war. I stayed because of you. I should have gone after you
left Penbrook, but I couldn’t leave Camilla alone to look after things. Now,
with Hank ready to take on the plantation, I have my chance. I want to make a
fresh start before I’m too old. My brother-in-law has found some good land for
me. I--I sent a draft to buy it.”

“And how does Camilla feel about this?”
When he hesitated, Cat let out a gasp. “Surely you’re not saying you would
leave her?”

Thomas’s eyes hardened. “She’s welcome to
join me. But I don’t expect she will.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course she’ll go with
you, if that’s what you truly want to do. Camilla would follow you to the ends
of the earth. She’s loved you since she was fifteen years old.”

“And I’ve loved you that long.”

Sadness clutched Cat’s heart at the love
in his eyes. “Thomas, that was seventeen years ago. We were nothing but
children.”

He moved his horse next to hers and
reached out to take her hand. “I still love you. God help me, even now, after
everything.”

Once, those words would have caused her
heart to sing. Now they left her empty.

“You don’t love me.” His tone held no
accusation, only gentle acceptance. “I know that. But I can’t help myself.”

“What about your wife?” After years of
glowing reports from Camilla of the happiness she and Thomas shared, Cat
couldn’t even imagine that Thomas wasn’t in love with her.

“She hasn’t been a true wife in many
years. She’s lost too much.” He spoke with regret, his thumb stroking the back
of her hand. “At one time, I thought we could be happy. But with one baby after
another in the grave, she’s become bitter and angry. She blames me.”

Cat pulled her hand away and gave a
nonchalant wave. “We’ve all suffered loss. It’s no excuse to be a shrew.”

“Perhaps not. But after losing our last
child, she just can’t bear the thought of losing another.”

Understanding dawned. He’d been trying to
tell her he and Camilla no longer shared a bed. “And it’s easier not to take a
chance that she might become with child again.”

“Yes. I suppose that’s right.” He leaned
toward her again.

She saw the passion in his eyes and knew
it wouldn’t take much to encourage him to take his solace in her. But that
would never happen. Any love she’d felt for Thomas had dissipated years ago.

“You should try harder to woo Camilla,
Thomas. Any woman will respond to a man who treats her with gentleness and
love.”

He looked deeply into her eyes. “Even
you?”

A smile touched her lips. “As long as
that man isn’t married to someone else.”

Thomas twisted his lips into a sneer.
“Oh, is that so? From what I’ve seen, you have a preference for the ones who
are married.”

Cat jerked her chin. “Only one.” She sent
him a hard look. “And you’re not that man. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather
tour the rest of the fields alone.”

Without awaiting an answer, she nudged
her horse forward. She ignored his calls, relieved when he didn’t pursue her.
This argument was just the excuse she needed to follow the path through the
woods to Madame Flora’s alone and unwatched.

Assured that Thomas hadn’t followed, she
allowed the horse to slow to a walk. Last night’s downpour had given the land
an earthy fragrance that filled Cat’s senses. The rain had given way to a light
shower, whispering to her as though singing a lullaby. She felt refreshed and
happy.

But as she approached the clearing in the
woods, which she would have to cross to reach the old medicine woman’s cabin,
she felt the first twinge of doubt. Could she really get rid of the life inside
her?
Flesh of her flesh?
Bone of her
bone?

Her thoughts went back to the first time
her mother laid little Henry in her arms. Despite the circumstances surrounding
his conception, and the months of hating the growing child within her--Henry’s
child of rape--Cat had taken one look at his tiny mouth firmly clutched to her
breast, and all the hatred had fled, replaced by the fiercest love imaginable.

She pulled on the reins and stared at the
trail of sunlight shining through the thinning foliage. If she could love a
child she had believed to be a product of Henry’s cruel and savage abuse,
couldn’t she love a child fathered by a man who loved her and for whom she felt
admiration and genuine affection?

Stuart yearned for her to become
pregnant. Every month for the past twelve years, he expressed his hope. He’d
finally begun to believe that he was incapable of fathering children. With an
enormous amount of relief, Cat had eventually come to accept that explanation
as well. In the beginning, she might have welcomed children, but now, she knew
the ramifications.

There weren’t too many secrets in the
circles in which Stuart moved. People would know the child was his, borne of
his mistress and not his wife. Her child would be looked down upon. Ridiculed
and ostracized by polite society for something over which neither of them had
any control--the circumstances of one’s birth.

Fortified by that final thought, Cat
nudged her horse forward once more. This sacrifice was for her child. It was
the best course of action.

Just as she was about to leave the woods,
she heard laughter and the sound of snapping twigs. Movement caught the corner
of her eye. A flash of a blue dress followed by a pursuing man. “Stop! Who’s
there?”

Silence filled the woods. Even the
insects and birds ceased calling to their mates. “Come out or I’m coming after
you. I have a gun,” she lied.

“Lawd.” The female voice trembled with
alarm.

“Don’t shoot, Miss Cat.”

A few yards away, she heard the crack of
a twig as her son came into view. “Henry Jr., what on earth are you doing?”

He turned to the trees and reached out.
“It’s okay.” His gentle tone reminded her so much of Thomas as a young man.
Again, she had to wonder how on earth no one had recognized how alike father
and son were.

Cat felt her world spin as young Annie,
the housemaid, stepped out, her black hand firmly clasped in Henry’s. “What are
you two doing?” She dismounted, planting one hand firmly on her hips. Her face
twisted into a scowl, matching the rage building inside her.

“This is--” Henry began, but Cat gave him
no chance to continue.

“I know who the little harlot is.” Cat
stared her down. “Last night, she was making eyes at Shaw. Today, she’s doing
God-knows-what with you in the woods.”

Annie’s eyes grew wide and she stopped
short, wrenching her hand from Henry’s grasp.

“Miss Cat,” Henry said. “Please don’t
talk that way to Annie. I love her.”

“Love!” Cat exploded. “Don’t be a fool.”

All the years of
sacrifice.
Not pursuing Thomas when she knew he had fathered her baby.
Working her fingers to the bone to see that Penbrook prospered. Leaving
Penbrook, and Shaw, and becoming a white man’s whore so that Camilla could
marry Thomas and give Henry a good life. All the sacrifices she’d made so that
her son’s future would be assured. And now he wanted to throw it away on a
black whore? She wouldn’t allow it.

“This girl only wants to get your white
baby in her belly so she can extort money from you and lighten her bloodline.
She knows you’d never marry someone like her.”

Tears flooded Annie’s big brown eyes.
Without a word, she turned and fled toward the house.

Angry sparks flew from Henry’s eyes. His
face twisted in fury. “I love her, Cat. You have no right to say such things!”

“No right?” Outrage overrode reason and
she blurted out her deepest secret. “I have every right, young man. I’m your
mother!”

Henry’s face
paled,
then went red. “That’s a lie. My mother and father were Madeline and Henry
Penbrook. My mama died when I was a baby.”

Cat’s heart raced as regret flooded over
her. How could she have revealed the truth in such a manner? But now that it
was out, she could no more have tucked it back into the shadows than she could
have denied her love for her son. Her voice softened. “Miss Maddy loved you
like a son. But I’m the one who carried you, bore you, and nursed you. You are
my flesh and blood, Henry Jr.”

“It’s a lie. My mother died of an illness
and my father was killed when Sherman marched through Georgia. You were nothing
more than a slave in our household who stayed on for hire after the war.”

Pain twisted Cat’s heart. “That isn’t
true.” Her voice caught in her throat. “I know this is confusing. We couldn’t
tell you the truth when you were a child. But now that you are
grown.
. . Perhaps I still shouldn’t have told you. But you
have to know what I gave up so that you could inherit this land.” Her voice
broke, but she swallowed back the tears. “I will not have you ruin your life
after everything I sacrificed so that you could inherit
Penbrook
.
Do you understand me? I won’t have it, Henry.”

“My name is Hank.” The cold, low tone
sent a shiver up Cat’s spine. “And if anyone’s a lying black whore, it’s you.”

His words stabbed at her heart and stole
her breath. But now that the truth was spoken, she couldn’t shrink back. “Ask
Camilla if you don’t believe me.”

He gave her another long, hard glare,
then turned and crashed through the woods toward the house.

Cat pressed her head against the mare’s
neck. Had she made a mistake? She debated whether or not to return to the house
with Henry and make sure Camilla told him the truth, but she knew Camilla would
ultimately confess. The years had not been kind to her. She had grown frail,
and her will seemed to have fled. She’d never have the gumption to lie about
it, not when Henry confronted her.

She gave the mare a gentle nudge forward
and continued on to Madame Flora’s cabin.

The woman stood regally on her front step
as Cat approached. Cat had always been fascinated with the former slave. Of French
and African descent, she had always been an exotic, mysterious flower that drew
Cat from the moment they
met,
despite Shaw’s
insistence they not sharecrop the land to her. Her amber-colored eyes bore
through Cat, seeking, probing. “So, you’ve come.”

Unease and a touch of embarrassment crept
through Cat. The woman was obviously expecting someone else. “I’m sorry. I hope
this isn’t a bad time. My name is Catherina. I knew you twelve years ago,
before I left Penbrook.”

“I remember you.” Her lips turned up in a
smile--the sort that held a hundred secrets. “I’ve been expecting you today.
Madame Flora always knows when a young woman needs her help.”

Cat fought her amusement. “Really?” The
sarcasm was hard to veil.

The woman arched one eyebrow as her gaze
darkened. “You don’t believe?”

“Let’s just say I’m not a believer in
much, and certainly not something I can’t see. Besides, I didn’t come here for
a fortune. I am well aware of my future. I’m more interested in your power to
help a woman out of a fix.”

“I have the potions cooking. Come back
tonight by the light of the moon and I will remove your burden.”

“But you don’t even know why I’ve come.”

“I know.” Her snake-like eyes commanded
Cat’s attention, and she felt drawn into the hypnotic gaze. Shaw’s words came
back to her. Witch. Wicked.
Works of the devil.
Evil.

“H–how long will it take?”

“If you are not too far along, you will
drink the potion and expel the blood and tissue within a few hours. If the
child has had enough time to form and grow larger than the size of my palm, I
will have to help your body deliver.”