Elysium: The Plantation Series Book IV

A testament to the people of New Orleans, yesterday and today.

--
Romantic Times (Four Stars)

A family saga in the grand old style, told by a master storyteller.

--
Historical Novels Review (Editor’s Choice)

Rich in compelling characters, beautifully described landscapes and enough drama to keep you reading until the end.

--
Romance Reader at Heart (Top Pick)

Reminiscent of the great epic novels of early writers such as Mitchell and Steinbeck.

--
Fresh Fiction

One of the most exquisite books I have read in a very long time.

--
Romance
Junkies (4.5 Stars.)

The pacing is brisk, the characters multifaceted, and the plot compelling . . . This saga is
another winner.

--
The Historical Novels Review.

Doesn’t pull any punches in this ante-bellum romance. I strongly recommend Ever My Love.

--
Books for a Buck

A breathtaking novel that is well researched, rich in historical detail, featuring a beautiful passionate and caring heroine. . .

--
Mystic Castle (Five Hearts, Recommended Read.)

Lily Palmer stood on the top deck
of the paddle steamer, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s. Calm down, she
told herself. Everything was going to be all right now.

Standing on tip toe, Lily’s six
year old daughter peered over the railing, mist from the paddles beading in her
hair. "We’re slowing down, Mama."

Over Maddie’s head, Lily read the
sign she’d been looking for all these many miles. Toulouse Landing. She’d done
it. She’d saved them.

The pilot commenced his delicate
maneuvers to position the ship for docking. The starboard side nudged the
pillars. And they were home.

"Home" sounded
like a place to draw you in and welcome you, a place of warmth and familiarity
when, in truth, Lily had not seen Uncle Garvey or his small farm since she was
a girl. His letter of invitation had been kind, though, and its timing
fortuitous. Without it, Lily would not have known where to go when she and
Maddie fled Philadelphia.

"Do you remember what
to do when you meet Uncle Garvey?"

"I’m to curtsey, to
say ‘How do you do, Uncle Garvey?’ and if he seems nice, I may kiss his cheek."

Lily smoothed the unruly
wisps of hair off Maddie’s face. "Perfect."

The crew rattled out the
gangway and lashed it into place. "Ma’am," a boatman called up to
them from the lower deck. "We’re ready for you."

Lily drew a deep breath.
This was it then. Their new life. There was certainly no going back.

Maddie clutched her hand
so tight it hurt, but Lily wouldn’t let go for the world. Maddie had every right
to be anxious, torn from home, rushed to the river and aboard a boat headed
west with no time to say goodbye to anyone. Maddie had mentioned her father
only once. That first day, she’d said, "What about Daddy? Isn’t he coming
with us?"

"No, sweetheart.
Daddy is staying here." And that was all either of them said about him.

It was a peaceful scene
onshore. A dozen dark-skinned men lounged at their ease waiting to load their
wagons with the crates and kegs the boat delivered. Not slaves, these men. Not anymore.

Beside the nearest wagon
stood the only white person on the levee, a well-dressed young woman shading
herself with a lacy white parasol. Next to her a dark young man in khaki-colored
pants and a white shirt leaned against the same wagon, his arms crossed over
his chest. He turned his head to say something to the elegant woman. She tossed
back her head and laughed.

No sign of Uncle Garvey,
but as soon as Lily crossed the gangway, the young black man strode forward.

"Mrs. Palmer?"
he said as she stepped onto the levee.

"Yes."

"I’m Thomas. I’m to
take you to your uncle."

A broad-shouldered white
crewman rudely pushed past her and shoved a meaty hand into Thomas’s chest.

"Get out of the way,
boy!"

Thomas fisted his hands.
Lily pulled Maddie close, watching  the inner struggle so clearly flit across
Thomas’s face.

He made his choice, loosened
his fists, and took a step back.

That was not enough for
the greasy white man. He snarled and shoved him again. "I said move!"

His peaceful decision
flew away, and Thomas shoved the man back.

The white man rammed his
fist into Thomas’s gut.

"Stop that this
instant!" The well-dressed woman’s commanding voice carried over the
idling steam engine.

Thomas was on his feet
again, lunging for the white man, his fist thrown with all the force of his
shoulder behind it.

The woman marched into
the fray, her closed parasol now a weapon. Fearless, she poked the boatman with
the parasol and ordered him to back off. As huge and threatening as the man
was, he stood down.

"Don’t!" Thomas
hissed at the young woman.

The white man wiped his
hand across his busted lip and spat at Thomas’s feet with a sneer on his face.
He turned to stride away, but not without throwing a curse and a slur over his
shoulder.

"Just don’t!" Thomas
said again through clenched teeth.

In the long moment while
Thomas and the woman locked eyes, Lily read an entire story. Thomas was angry,
that was easy enough to see. And this dark-haired young woman was anguished. Before
she forced her expression into a blank mask, hurt and sorrow shone in her dark
eyes.

A connection, an
emotional one? Between a former slave and an expensively-dressed white woman?
There was a history here.

Though her face was
ashen, the lady turned to Lily as if nothing had happened.

"You must be Mrs. Palmer.
I am Musette DeBlieux. We are to be neighbors." Miss DeBlieux’s smile was
wide, but Lily saw the strain around her eyes and mouth.

Lily shook her hand, then
introduced Maddie.

"You’ll be worn out
from traveling. When you have settled in with Mr. Bickell, I will call on you,
if I may."

"I look forward to
it," Lily said. Indeed she did. She admired a woman who could turn a
parasol into an instrument of power. And, she admitted, she was curious. For a
young black man to speak to a white woman with such heat, and with such
familiarity, was truly, well, unexpected.

That white crewman’s
hostile feelings, she supposed, were not surprising. With emancipation, every
community down here was upside down, everyone unsettled and emotions high. But set
back behind Toulouse, Uncle Garvey’s farm promised to be a refuge. It was much
smaller than the great plantations. Elysium, he’d named it – Uncle Garvey’s own
paradise. She prayed it would be as peaceful as she remembered. She needed
peace.

Thomas led them to the wagon,
tension radiating from his back like waves of heat off a pavement. Without a
glance back at Miss DeBlieux, he stowed their bags and helped her and Maddie
onto the bench.

Thomas flicked the reins
and the mule clomped along to a rutted lane leading away from the river deep
into the land behind Toulouse, the DeBlieux plantation. Uncle Garvey’s place
had no direct access to the Mississippi, a significant disadvantage when it was
time to transport goods. But, his letter had explained, the DeBlieuxs were
happy to share the dock where a small steamship stopped and collected his
produce to take sixty miles downriver to New Orleans.

"
Heaven
,
that’s what my Lena called this place," Uncle Garvey had written. "Only
she’d been reading a book about the ancient Greeks, so she called it
Elysium
.
And it is a pretty place, Lily. More birds than you can ever name, green all
year round, no snow and ice of a winter, no street cars clanging the live long
day. Come see how you like it, Lily. If you can stomach it, I want you to have
the place, such as it is. The only child I have left, your cousin Avery, he
says he don’t want it. You remember he hit it big out in California and he
don’t want to ever see Louisiana again. Ungrateful wretch. But I do miss him.
Someday, I’m going to San Francisco like he’s been after me to, but I like the
notion that there’s a future here for some of my own."

It was a pretty place.
The air felt soft on Lily’s skin and carried the scents of roses, black earth,
and jasmine. Seemed like every inch of land was covered in green.

They passed the DeBlieux
house of Toulouse plantation. It was an old Creole house, large and comfortable
looking, but not so grand as the mansions with tall white columns she had seen along
the banks of the Mississippi. Of course, the Yankees had burned some of them half
way to the ground.

At the end of the lane,
they turned into Uncle Garvey’s yard. Over the porch, a small plank was burned
with the letters to spell
Elysium.
Heaven. And maybe it was. The house
was snug and welcoming with the porch rails painted bright white, the
clapboards a soft gray like worn cypress. A bed of bright petunias bordered the
porch and a vine of honeysuckle wound round the post all the way to the roof.

Uncle Garvey stepped out
onto the porch. Lily would have known him anywhere. He looked much like her
father might have if he hadn’t died early. Her uncle had a bushy white bird,
wispy white hair on his head, an expanding middle – and a smile on his face.

He stood on the porch
with his hands on his hips watching them climb down from the wagon. Lily,
uncertain how to greet him – it had been years since she’d seen him – hid her
hands in her skirts so no one could see them trembling. So much depended on her
and Maddie making a home here, but she had spent too much of the last years
being afraid. She swallowed once and stepped onto the porch, her hand held out.
But Uncle Garvey wasn’t having any of that. He opened his arms wide and
gathered her in. Lily felt she’d waited a long time for a hug like this, total,
warm, and loving. Not since Papa died had
she felt simple kindness in another person’s touch. She leaned into his chest
and closed her eyes. Everything was going to be all right.

"And who is this?"
He bent to peer at Maddie. "Do you know, I believe you’re the prettiest
little girl I ever saw."

Maddie hid behind Lily’s
skirt, but she smiled.

"What do you say, Maddie?"
Lily prompted.

Maddie responded to her
cue with a lovely curtesy. "How do you do, Uncle Garvey?" Then she
reached up for him to bend over again and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh my, what a
charmer, Lily."

The rest of Lily’s
tension eased out of her shoulders. Uncle Garvey was glad to see them.

"Well, come on in.
You haven’t met everybody yet."

Lily took Maddie’s hand
and followed her uncle into the hallway where it was cool and dim.

"They’re at the back
of the house, I expect."

In the kitchen, Lily
found a tall black woman and an even blacker man. These would be Uncle Garvey’s
former slaves who’d stayed on with him even after emancipation. His letter had
made it clear that they belonged on the place. They were to remain here as long
as they wanted to be here.

"You must be Rachel,"
Lily said.

The woman dipped at the
knee.

"And you’re Peep."

"Yes, ma’am."

"And hiding behind
Peep is a new friend for you. Dawn, come out here and meet Maddie." Uncle
Garvey held his hand out and a big-eyed child peered around her daddy. "Come
here, darling."

Dawn took his hand and
eyed Maddie from beneath curling eyelashes.

"Maddie, this is
Dawn. Dawn, you two can push each other in the swing after while."

"Soon as Miss Lily
get settled," Rachel said, "I’ll put supper on the table, Mr. Garvey."

"Come on, then, Lily.
I’ll take you to your room."

In the shadowy hallway
upstairs, Uncle Garvey turned to her. "Lily, you have come without your
husband?"

She’d known she’d have to
explain this. She’d run it through her head over and over, yet still it nearly
choked her. "Frederick passed away, Uncle Garvey."

"My dear girl."
He took her hand and patted it. "Then I am doubly glad I could offer you a
home. You are not alone, my dear."

Lily blinked away the
tears on her lashes. "Thank you, Uncle Garvey. You’ll never know how much
your kindness means to me and Maddie."

Maddie had gone ahead
into the room to explore. Lily would have to tell her about her daddy, but not
today. She took Maddie’s bonnet off and washed her face. The room they were to
share had pale blue walls that made the air feel cooler. The bed cover was lace
over batting, the curtains were the same lace, and a landscape adorned the wall
beside the door. A wash stand, a chest of drawers, a dresser with mirror, and a
straight-back chair completed the furnishings.

Lily stood in the middle
of the room and just listened. It was quiet here, like Uncle Garvey’s letter
had promised. She breathed in, closed her
eyes, and let the peace seep into her bones.

This would be home for
her and Maddie from now on. No more shouting. No more bruises. No more fear.

"Oh look, a little
stool!" Maddie cried as if she had discovered a golden egg or at least a
silver goblet. She dragged the stool over to the pegs on the wall, stepped onto
it and hung her bonnet up.

"This is a good
place, Mama?"

"Yes, sweetheart. I
think this is a very good place. I smell supper, don’t you?"

Uncle Garvey led them
into the dining room still chatting with Lily. Then he suddenly hushed. His
eyes ran over the table where there were three places set.

"What is this,
Rachel?"

"We got people here
now, Mr. Garvey."

Lily watched confusion
flicker over her uncle’s face, and then embarrassment. It came to her then.
They’d all been eating together at this table until she and Maddie arrived.

Lily didn’t know what to
do. Should she assure Uncle Garvey that whatever he was accustomed to would be
fine with her and Maddie? But she had never eaten with black people before. Surely
it wasn’t proper, especially here in Louisiana.

Rachel decided it. "Ya’ll
sit down. The biscuits coming out in a minute. Miss Maddie, you sit here where
there’s a pillow in the chair."

All of them were quiet
while they seated themselves. Uncle Garvey had lost his smile, and Lily was
sorry for it.

Peep came in with a
pitcher of water and filled their glasses, and still no one spoke until Maddie,
bless her, broke the tension. Her eyes on the platter of hot, golden biscuits,
she said, "Can I have honey on my biscuits?"

"Biscuitsssss?"
Uncle Garvey teased. "How many biscuits you planning to eat?"

"Fourteen!"

With a smile, Uncle
Garvey caught Lily’s eye and winked. "Let’s pray," he said. He reached
his hands out for Lily’s and Maddie’s and led the prayer Then it was a feast of
new and old foods. Biscuits, of course. Shrimp steamed with peppers and rice,
stewed okra, black-eyed peas, creamed corn, ham, pickles, sliced onions, pear
compote.