Garden of the Moon (13 page)

Light from a half-moon shed pitiful illumination on the path. Then it disappeared behind a cloud. Several times, when she’d lost her way momentarily in the resulting darkness, Sara stumbled over a bush, its branches snatching at her clothes and skin, but she pushed on. Her heart beat triple time in her chest and despite the coolness of the evening, sweat beads dotted her forehead. Her flimsy nightgown clung to her damp body, and the cool night air penetrated the thin material, chilling her skin. Her head pivoted from side to side, ever watchful for Katherine and whatever she may have in mind this time.

When Sara had finally reached the spot where she’d seen the mist and stopped at a safe distance away, she slipped behind the broad trunk of an old magnolia tree and peered around it. Able to make out nothing but Gran’s favorite bench, the place Sara had thought she saw the ball of mist stop, she sighed in frustration.

Then the moon came out of hiding, and Sara could see a dark patch on the bench. She squinted to make out what it was, but from this distance, it remained a mystery. Carefully, she looked around her to make certain Katherine wasn’t lurking somewhere nearby, ready to pounce. Satisfied that she was alone, Sara crept out of her hiding place and approached the bench.

Not until she was nearly on top of it did she realize the small dark patch was…

Maddy’s diary
!

She had no idea how it got here from the river bank, nor did she care. All that mattered was that it was here. She snatched it up and cradled it against her breast. The second her hands touched it, that now familiar sensation of peace and love washed over her. Holding it tight, she turned to flee back to the safety of her bedroom. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of that misty apparition she’d seen from her window.

“Who’s there? Show yourself.” Though her words sounded brave, her insides curdled with fear. “Who are you?”

“It’s me, my darling girl.”

“Gran?” The fear melted away like butter on a hot day.

The transparent mist slowly took the familiar form of Sara’s grandmother.

Sara breathed a sigh of relief. “I was afraid you were—”

“Katherine?”

“Yes. I think she tried to drown me today, Gran.”

“That she did. Had it not been for Jonathan, she would have succeeded.”

Jonathan, her savior. She knew in her heart that it had been him who had snatched her from the jaws of a watery death, so she didn’t need Gran’s affirmation, but it was nice to have her supposition verified.

Gran drifted toward her, skimming over the ground like a soap bubble blown by the wind. She stopped just beyond Sara’s reach. “Katherine can’t come into this garden, child. You’re safe here. The Temple dogs guard it from any evil entering here.”

Sara recalled what Clarice Degas had told her. “But the night Jonathan was killed Katherine was here, wasn’t she? She just stood by and watched Jonathan die. Anyone who could do that had to be evil.”

“Yes, but there were no dogs back then.”

“Of course. Grandpa Ezra put the dogs outside the moongate.”

Gran nodded. “You’re not the first person who’s been the object of Katherine’s wrath. Do you think I wanted her face staring at me from that picture day after day? I tried to remove her portrait from my bedroom many times, but the next day it would always be back there, and I’d always hear her laughter when I discovered it had been replaced.”

So Gran had also come face to face with the evil that lived at Harrogate. For the first time, it made sense to Sara why her grandmother would not talk about the portrait that Sara hated so much.

“She’s a malevolent presence in the house, and you don’t have the protection of the temple dogs outside the garden. Be careful, darling girl.”

Sara nodded. “I will. Thank you for returning the diary to me. How did you get—”

Gran stopped her words with that wave of the hand that dismissed things she found trivial and then smiled that beautiful smile that Sara knew so well. “You’re very welcome, darling girl. Guard it closely. Now, I suggest you return to your room before you catch your death.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll guard it with my life.”

“Let’ hope it never comes to that.”

The figure of a man took shape behind Gran. For a moment, Sara thought it was Jonathan, but when he moved closer, she realized it was her grandfather. Gran glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

“I must go now. Be safe, darling girl. And be happy.”

Gran turned and drifted back to where Sara’s grandfather waited with a loving smile curling up the full mouth nearly hidden behind his profuse black moustache. A moment later, hand in hand, they vanished. For a long time, Sara clutched the diary to her and stared at the spot where they’d been. As she’d done many times, Sara wished she’d known Ezra Wade. Unfortunately, he’d died before she was old enough to remember him.

How much in love her grandparents were. Their love that had spanned time and space. A love like Maddy and Jonathan had shared. A love that Sara longed for with every ounce of her being.

***

Instead of reading the diary as she’d so wanted to, Sara had gone to bed, the diary tucked safely under her pillow. The next morning, she awoke refreshed and happy. She’d promised Julie and Jonathan that she would take care of herself and sitting up half the night reading would not have been the way to do that. However, she already planned that this evening she would retire early, which should please Julie and Raina, and read. Perhaps she would find the way back to Jonathan. Excitement bubbled up in her.

She tamped it down. First, she had to get through the long hours of the day. So when Julie suggested Sara help supervise the slaves while they butchered a pig Sara’s father had sent to Harrogate, she readily agreed. After that, she and Julie were called to one of the slave cabins to help deliver a baby for Latisha, Samuel and Chloe’s youngest daughter.

As it turned out, Floree, an old, freewoman midwife, who lived in a shack a couple of miles down the River Road, had beat them to it. Samuel had fetched her, and by the time Sara and Julie had arrived, Latisha had given birth to a beautiful little girl. The baby was bathed, wrapped in a length of white flannel and nursing at her momma’s breast. Rather than go inside, they stood just outside the door to the crowded cabin, marveling at the arrival of the tiny new life.

Before long, Floree began shooing everyone out of the cabin so the mother and baby could sleep.

Sara stopped one of the girls as she slipped through the doorway. “Tell Floree we thank her for helping Litisha. Tell her to go into the kitchen in the big house, and she’ll find a basket of vegetables waiting for her.”

The girl’s eyes grew large. “Oh, Missus, Floree won’t step foot in da big house. Never has fo years.” She hurried on, leaving Sara to stare after her in puzzlement.

“Strange.” Then she shrugged. It wasn’t all that uncommon for a slave who didn’t work in the main house to refuse entry. The poor things were imbued with a fear of anything that wasn’t a part of their everyday world. “Well, I’ll have Samuel take the basket to her house.” Then she looped her arm through Julie’s. “Right now, I’m too tired to think about it. I need a bath and some food.” Julie agreed.

Tired, but still elated with the sight of the mother and her new baby, Julie and Sara made their way along the dirt path that led back up to the main house from the slave quarters.

“Who was the midwife?” Julie stepped around a puddle in the road.

“Raina said she used to a be a slave on one of the neighboring plantations, but she helped nurse her mistress through yellow fever years ago and her master was so grateful that he freed her and gave her that tiny house she lives in.”

“I’m sorry we missed the birth of Latisha’s baby,” Julie mused. “Delivering babies is one of the chores of the plantation mistress that I always loved. Seeing that tiny new life come into the world is like watching a miracle happen.”

Recalling the high pitched wail of one of Chloe’s babies when it had taken its first breath, Sara, her throat choked with emotions, could only nod.

“Do you ever think about having children?” Julie shifted the small black bag that held their medical supplies to her other hand.

Sara considered the question for a moment before answering. “I always thought I’d fall in love with some dashing man, marry him and have a boy and a girl.”

“Why both?”

Sara grinned at her companion. “A girl for me to dress in ribbons and lace and a boy for his father to teach how to ride and hunt.”

Julie nudged her with her elbow. “Well, if you don’t settle down and find that man, you may as well forget about those children.”

Sara’s footsteps faltered. She sort of had a man. But how do you produce children with a ghost?

Back at the house, their conversation about reproduction was soon forgotten. The house was full of the aromas of baked ham, creamed peas, fresh baked bread, and peach cobbler. Famished after their arduous day, both women hurried through washing and dressing and were back in the dining room before Chloe could serve up the food.

When Raina delivered the meal to the dining room, she was grinning ear to ear with the news that she had a beautiful little niece.

“I saw her, and she’s jest the prettiest thing the good Lawd ever put on this here earth. Yes, she sho is.” She fairly sang out the words.

Julie and Sara laughed. “She is that,” they agreed.

“Has Latisha named her yet?” Julie helped herself to two large slices of pink ham and added them to her already overflowing plate.

Sara noted absently that Julie’s appetite had not diminished since her arrival. It was almost as though she feared each meal would be her last.

“She’s namin’ her Rose, jes like the flower.”

As though some unseen force had shoved it into her mind, Sara immediately had a vision of the white roses growing around the gazebo in the Garden of the Moon. Suddenly, the siren’s call of Maddy’s diary became almost overwhelming. Fighting it down, she dug into her dinner with a gusto that made Julie and Raina exchange satisfied nods.

Sated and eager to get to her room, Sara forced herself to sit in the parlor with Julie and exchange banalities until she could announce she was going to bed without giving rise to questions from her friend.

The mantel clock ticked away the endless minutes. Each minute was like a pin prick. Outside, twilight descended on the plantation grounds. Sara glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. Still too early to retire for the night. Barely aware of what her companion was saying, she nodded and inserted appropriate replies, their vagueness escaping Julie’s notice. Or so Sara thought.

Julie laid aside the embroidery she’d been working on. “You’re very quiet tonight, Sara.” Pulling a length of crimson floss from the basket at her side, Julie threaded her needle, knotted the ends, and went back to work on the sampler.

Sara sighed and closed the book she’d been pretending to read. “I guess I’m just tired. We had a very busy day.”

Immediately, Julie lowered her embroidery and that all too familiar look of concern came over her expression. For once, Sara didn’t mind.

“Then perhaps you should make an early night of it, and go to bed. It hasn’t been all that long since you were ill.”

Relieved, Sara had to fight to keep the smile from her lips. “Perhaps you’re right. I think I’ll take your advice,” she said, rising from the chair with a lethargic movement that would underline her exhaustion. “See you in the morning.”

“Good night. Sleep well.”

As she left the room, Sara nodded, but she knew there would be little sleep for her that night.

***

Settled in her chair, Sara lifted Maddy’s diary into her lap. She ruffled the pages and began to wonder about Maddy’s last entry in the book. Taking it firmly in her hands, she attempted to open the book toward the back, but couldn’t. It was as if the pages were glued together. Over and over she tried, but always with the same result. Then she went to where she’d left off reading and tried, and the pages fell opened with little effort on her part.

She smiled. Evidently she was not supposed to peek at the ending.

With overwhelming excitement at the prospect of seeing Jonathan again, even if just through Maddy’s musings, she started to read.

June 20, 1805

My heart is shattered. The reason for the family gathering was as I feared. Tonight, my father announced Katherine’s betrothal to Jonathan. Sadly, now, it’s official. Though I waited and prayed for my sister to say she didn’t want to marry the man I love, as Jonathan had predicted she would, Katherine didn’t object. Instead, she just smiled at me, her expression filled with satisfaction. She doesn’t love Jonathan, but she’s taking great delight in knowing I do and making me suffer.

Jonathan’s father spared no expense on the elaborate celebration dinner of roast capons and French Champaign. The guests were as ostentatious as the food and drink: Clarice Degas and her son of Candlewick Plantation, the Watsons of Riverdown Plantation, the Madisons of Magnolia Rest Plantation and even the Governor of Orleans Territory, William Claiborne.

I had little to eat. The food stuck in my throat. It’s hard to eat when your heart lay in a million pieces in your breast
.

Sara paused in her reading and ran her fingertips over the dried tearstains on the page. Maddy’s heartache mirrored the pain stabbing into her own chest. She had no idea what was going to happen after this, but she knew it was as though it were happening to her and not this woman who had walked the earth fifty years before her. This connection she shared with Maddy Grayson was uncanny. Oddly, Sara felt as if she, and not Madeline Grayson, had been the one living the distraught woman’s life.

Drying the tears Sara hadn’t even realized she’d been shedding until one dropped to the yellow pages to join Maddy’s, she read on.

How am I going to live the rest of my life without him, watching him father children with a woman who is incapable of love, and never feeling the touch of his lips on mine again?