Ever My Love: A Saga of Slavery and Deliverance (The Plantation Series Book 2) (33 page)

As Mr. Tadman and Bertrand Chamard conferred, Yves took
Marianne’s elbow, startling her. “I want to talk to you.” She drew away, but he
had her arm. “Now.”

Yes, he had helped Pearl and Luke, but that gave him no
claim on her. She should yank herself from his grip. She should stomp on his
foot, she should slap him in the face. But, her mouth sullen and tight, she
allowed him to take her around the corner of the house into the alley, away
from the others, and place her with her back to the wall.

“Exactly what is it that would cause you to hustle me in
this way, Mr. Chamard?”

He smiled at her, but she noticed it didn’t quite reach his
eyes. He didn’t like being defied. Good, she thought. She had no intention of
pleasing him ever again.

“Miss Johnston. I require your ear, if you please. In the
figurative or the literal sense, as you like.” He lifted a hand to touch her,
but she leaned away, remembering those traitorous nibbles he’d taken from her
ear.

“Figurative, then. You did not, Miss Marianne, allow me to
finish the other day on the path. I would like you to do so now.”

“If I must.”

“Fact one,” he began. “You are the daughter of a wealthy and
influential planter. You are accustomed to a certain standard of living. This
you will concede?”

Guardedly, Marianne agreed.  Even after two days on the
road, he looked good. His hair was mashed flat from his hat, and his nose was
sunburned, but his eyes were green and golden brown and his mouth --

“Fact two: we may very well be at war in a few months.
States’ rights, trade, secession, slavery -- whatever cause you wish to
attribute it to, the Union may soon be torn apart. I know you are aware of
this.”

“Yes.” I’m still furious with him though. “And what has this
to do with me?”

“Fact three: You’re going to marry me. But, you see, there
are these obstacles to consider.”

Marianne’s busy thoughts ceased. What did he say? She met
his eyes. There was a hint of merriment there, but only a hint. He meant it.

“What makes you think I would marry you?”

Now his eyes gleamed with wicked humor. He propped one arm
against the wall behind her and leaned close. “Why do I think you will marry
me, Miss Marianne?” He touched her lips with his, gently – and for only the
briefest moment. “Because I can give you what you want.”

Marianne couldn’t move. She wasn’t giving in. He hadn’t won
her over. She just couldn’t move. “You don’t know what I want,” she said,
trying to sound snappish.

He kissed her again, briefly, softly. “I do.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and he took her kiss, hot and
hard and insistent. For a count of three, Marianne resisted. Then she let him
press her back into the wall and melted under his mouth.
If he thinks this is
what I want . . . he’s right
.  She parted her lips and tasted his tongue. Her
knees felt weak again, but he pulled her away from the wall and into his arms.
She let herself sink into him.

She blinked, her head clearing. She stepped out of his
embrace with her hand across her mouth.

“What do you mean, give me what I want? I can get kisses
anywhere.”

“Not these kisses.” He took her back and bent her over his
arm, his mouth on hers. Every bone in her body went soft. Total submission,
this kiss demanded. And she gave it.

When he let her up, she was dazed and breathless. He was
grinning. Maybe if he hadn’t grinned -- Insufferable, arrogant cad. “Very nice,
Mr. Chamard, but I want more than kisses.”

The grin faded. Her eyes insisted he offer more.

“Babies,” he said.

He knew she wanted babies?

“An honorable life – without owning other human beings. A
useful life – maybe using your medical skills.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I do want all of that. And one
thing more.”

He waited. What had he forgotten?

She lifted her arms to his neck. “I want you.”

The side of that house might have been an intimate boudoir,
so completely did the two of them forget themselves. Yves had one hand low on
her back, pressing her into him, the other behind her head. Marianne’s hands
gripped him, and . . . Monsieur Chamard’s calls at last penetrated their heated
senses. Yves lifted his head. “Did you hear someone?”

“I think it’s your father.”

Yves put a hand on either side of her face and kissed her
once more. “I adore you,” he whispered.

Marianne, undone by his tenderness, swallowed tears and
smiled at him as she tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. Once she had her
breath and her wits about her, he offered her his arm.

Next morning at the attorney’s office, Marianne sold Luke
and Pearl to Mr. Tadman for one dollar each. In exchange for Mr. Tadman
allowing his new slaves to live independently, he asked that Luke deliver one
bushel of corn, one watermelon, and a peck of okra per year. “Keeps it on the
up and up,” he said, “if anyone should inquire”

Marianne signed every paper with a joyful flourish, and it
was done. Luke and Pearl and DuPree belonged to William Tadman, but they were
free to live and love in a place with no overseer, no man taking the fruit of
their labor beyond a watermelon, a basket of okra, and a bushel of corn. As
close to freedom as they could get.

On Main Street, Monsieur Chamard, Yves, and Gabriel left the
ladies to their own shopping. The men meant to buy a mule and harness for Luke
to use on Ginny’s farm.

Miss Ginny stayed with Luke and Pearl at the Tadmans’, so
Marianne and Simone were on their own. As they stepped into the dry goods
store, Simone declared, “I mean to fill that wagon before they drive back to
Miss Ginny’s.”

Marianne smiled at her. If it weren’t for Miss Ginny, they’d
have lost Gabriel, and Luke and Pearl would be headed back to Magnolias. She
fingered her own near-empty purse. “Let me spend everything I have, and then
I’ll help you spend yours.”

Marianne picked out three bolts of calico, needles, thread,
and pins. “I don’t have another dime.”

Then the merchant followed Simone around as she pointed to
straw hats, stockings, flour, vinegar, burlap, canvas, tin plates and cups,
blankets, rice, beans, a barrel of pickles, a cured ham – whatever caught her
eye that she thought would be useful.

“What else do they need?” Simone said.

 “Ginny has a shotgun, but Luke could use a rifle and
ammunition for deer hunting. And a knife.”

Simone turned to the dry goods merchant. “You have rifles?”

“Yes, ma’am. I have rifles, pistols, shotguns, whatever you
want.”

By the time they finished enriching the merchant, Luke drove
the wagon up front. Instead of the two horses that had pulled it from Miss
Ginny’s, a fine looking mule stood in the traces.

While the wagon was being loaded, Gabriel leaned on his
crutch and took Miss Ginny’s hand, and Simone joined him in saying goodbye.
Meanwhile, Pearl touched Marianne’s arm. “I gots something to say, Missy.”

Marianne walked Pearl down the boardwalk a few paces from
the others.

“You done a fine thing, Missy, and de Lawd gone reward you,
dis life or de next. And Missy, Luke and me? No way to tell you but just say de
words. Thank you, Miss Marianne.” Pearl kissed Marianne on the cheek, and
Marianne hugged her.

“One mo thing,” Pearl said. “Mr. Yves. He do dis for Luke
and me cause he want to please you.”

Marianne turned her head to look at Yves arranging the
provisions in the wagon for a balanced ride. She loved the long line of his
body as he stretched across the bags of flour and beans. At breakfast, he’d
repeatedly taken her hand or her arm, rousing her so that all her senses were
attuned to him. She was aware of him every moment, saw the breeze rifling his
hair, the reach of his arms as he rolled a keg, even the faint scent of soap.

Pearl pulled her attention back. “He de best man any I seen,
and he do it all for you. You leave off being stubborn and don be mad at him no
more.”

Marianne blushed and laughed. “I’m not mad.” She glanced at
the others and spoke into Pearl’s ear. “He asked me to marry him.”

Pearl hugged her. “De Lawd be good to you.”

Marianne returned the embrace. “God bless you, Pearl.”

Mr. Tadman showed up with a black and white puppy. DuPree
struggled in Miss Ginny’s arms to reach the puppy, and had his face licked good
for his trouble.

“You train him right, Luke, you’ll have you a good hunting
dog,” Tadman said.

“Yassir. I will. And I sure thank you, sir.”

“Ready to go?” Yves asked. Luke nodded his head, and Yves
untied the reins from the hitching rail.

Luke, Ginny, DuPree, and Pearl shared the bench. Luke picked
up the reins and clucked to the well-trained mule, and they were off.
Marianne’s eyes teared as she waved and then watched them turn off Main Street
into Commerce on their way to a new life. She’d miss Pearl, but she was proud,
too, proud she had done this good thing.

They boarded the steamboat Lucky Lady for the trip home.
Monsieur Chamard invited Yves to the gaming tables in the salon. Gabriel and
Simone settled in the library and she read to him. Marianne walked the
promenade.

So much had happened in the three weeks since she’d set out
with a spinning wheel and three escapees in the back of a wagon. She felt she’d
earned a new maturity. Father would not be pleased about Pearl and Luke, but
she resolved to tell him all of it rather than to lie. She hated a lie, though
she thought it wise not to volunteer information about Joseph or the escape
route. And if Father was more displeased than she imagined, and she imagined
quite a furious father, she would find a way to pay him back. She could forgo
the dressmakers, for instance, for the coming season. Of course, it would be
embarrassing to be seen in last year’s gowns, but she didn’t really care about
that. What she’d done for Luke and Pearl made the conventions of the social
season seem trivial.

And how much of a season as an unmarried woman would she
have anyway? Yves had mentioned obstacles, but she only vaguely remembered that
part of their communication. Much more vivid was his touch, his tenderness, his
kisses. Forever kisses. She didn’t care if she even had a trousseau, much less
a fancy wedding, if Father was miffed at her. All she wanted was Yves.

Marianne realized she’d lost track of the days. Was this the
twelfth or the thirteenth? Father was due home the week of the twentieth. She
hurried back to the library to ask Simone for the date.

“It’s the fourteenth,” Simone said.

“Dear Lord, Father will be home next week!”

The Lucky Lady docked at Toulouse the next day. Cleo and
Josie had had a note from Bertrand they were on their way, and they’d kept
vigil on Josie’s gallery ever since. As soon as they heard the whistle, they
hurried down to the river to stand in the hot sun, waiting for their children.

Simone waved from the upper deck, and Josie waved and smiled
to see her first born safe and home again. “Look at her, Cleo. She’s so happy!”

“Then Gabriel is all right.” Cleo worked hard not to cry.
Young men did not appreciate their mothers crying over them. She scanned every
face looking for her son. Finally Bertrand emerged from the upper deck salon.
Smiling, he raised his hand to her. Bless him, he’d brought their boy home. She
wiped her eyes and waited for Gabriel to follow Bertrand out of the salon.
Gabriel used a crutch. He hesitated at the stairs, but he managed to descend on
his own.

“He’s so thin,” Cleo said.

Josie took her arm. “Don’t let him see you cry.”

Cleo straightened up. “You’re right. He’s alive, and he’s
home.”

Monsieur Chamard passed a few coins to the captain to stop
again at the Magnolias, and Marianne stood with Yves on the upper deck as the
boat pulled back into the stream. After he delivered Marianne safely home, Yves
would travel on to New Orleans to meet with Marcel and tell him Gabriel was
safe.

They were alone at last, except for the half-a-dozen other
passengers taking the air. They leaned on the rail and Yves pulled Marianne’s
arm through his. They had so much to talk about, to decide, to plan. They chose
rather to watch the water, feel the sun and the breeze, and hold hands hidden
from the other travelers.

At Magnolias, the steamboat waited for Yves to take Marianne
to the house. He opened the door for her and stepped inside. “Charles!” he
called. The butler appeared at once.

“Miss Marianne! Lawd, I bout gone crazy worrying bout you.”
He glared at Yves and lost all sense of his place. “You de one taken Miss
Marianne? She been gone way from here too long, Mr. Chamard.”

“No, Charles. It wasn’t Mr. Chamard’s fault.”

“I like to had the countryside out looking for you. Joseph
been back here days ago, and you still missing and --.”

“Charles, I’m all right. Really.”

“Everything is in order here?” Yves asked.

Charles wiped his face and breathed. “Yessir. Everything all
right now.”

The steam boat tooted the whistle. “I have to go,” Yves
said.

“Charles,” Marianne said, “will you find Hannah for me,
please?”

Charles left them, looking over his shoulder at the last
moment. “I be right back,” he warned them.

Yves took both Marianne’s hands and kissed her fingers. The
boat whistled again. “I’ll see you soon.”

Marianne watched from the doorway as Yves boarded. He waved
to her from the lower deck until the boat was far out into the river.

Finally Marianne went back into the cool dim hallway and
closed the door behind her.  She hardly felt the carpet under her feet as she
floated up the stairs.

A week passed, and Marianne re-established her routine. She
was in the garden after breakfast, Freddie nearby sniffing every bush and tuft
of grass, claiming it all, all, for himself. Marianne paused with a spade in
her hand and listened to the boat whistle on the river. She looked at Joseph.
“It’s stopping here?”