Garden of the Moon (6 page)

“There has to be more here. Lord knows, there’s enough other junk.” Sara shoved aside a chair with a moth-eaten seat. Dust moats floated up and danced in the weak shaft of sunlight. Sara sneezed. “Just
look
, Raina!” Her eagerness to leave this place filtered into her voice as impatience.

Raina went immediately to the closest pile of discarded junk.

Sara felt bad for taking out her impatience on Raina. It wasn’t her fault that the painting gave Sara the creeps. She cast a guilty look toward Raina.

Raina didn’t seem to notice her. She was engrossed in digging through a group of paintings she’d found leaning against the wall nearly concealed by an old, dilapidated sideboard. Suddenly, she stopped and stared down at one of the paintings.

“Laws, Miss Sara, you never told me Miss Alice had your pich’ur painted.”

Sara ceased her search and turned to her maid and frowned. “She didn’t.” The only portrait she’d ever sat for was by a New Orleans artist, and it hung over the mantel in the Wade’s Garden District home.

Raina shook her head. “No, ma’am. She sho nuff did. I gots it right here.”

She held up a painting, but Sara couldn’t see it through the dust moats and gloom. Pushing aside a chair with its legs missing, she made her way across the attic to the maid.

Sara stopped abruptly. Her mouth fell open. She could feel the color draining from her face. Icy shock waves danced over her hot skin. She had to fight to keep her knees from buckling.

“Miss Sara, you okay?”

Sara nodded dumbly, barely aware of moving. Her gaze remained glued to the painting.

Though her chestnut hair was piled on the top of her head and tiny ringlets of curls framed her face and neck, a style that hadn’t been in vogue for a very long time, and her Empire-waisted dress was totally out of date as well, the woman’s face…her eyes…could have been…Sara looking back at her from the canvas.

“Look here. Deys a gentleman, too.” Raina held up another canvas, the same size and with the same style frame.

Dragging her gaze from the unknown woman’s portrait, Sara glanced at the second painting. Disbelief then surprise vibrated through her from head to toe. It couldn’t be, but it was. It was the strange man who had appeared to her in the swamp and in the upstairs window.

Speechless, she sank weakly into a Queen Anne chair, caring nothing about the dust that would cling to her dress.

This couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. Who were these people, and why were their paintings in Harrogate? Propping them against her legs, Raina stood them side-by-side for Sara to look at.

It was then that Sara noticed it. The locket hanging around the woman’s neck. The same one that was on her dressing table down stairs. The locket Clarice had said Maddy never took off, the one that had been buried with Madeline Grayson. The portrait was of Maddy.

Her gaze shifted back to the man’s face in the other portrait. Was he Jonathan Bradford? Something that stirred next to her frantically beating heart told her it was.

But what of the other painting, the one she’d removed from her bedroom? Could that be Katherine? If Maddy and Sara looked that much alike, then Sara finally understood why the woman hated her. She also understood Clarice’s initial reaction to her: the wide eyes and the paling of her complexion. She probably thought Maddy had come back from the dead.

“What’s dis?” Raina rummaged around at the back of the painting. The sound of the backing being ripped away brought Sara back to the moment. “Look! Deys a book, too.”

In somewhat of a daze, Sara took the small, leather-bound book. A light layer of dust nearly obscured the writing on the cover. Using the hem of her gown, she wiped the cover clean. Written across the black leather in gold leaf were five words…
The Diary of Madeline Wade
.

Sara’s head grew light. Her temples began to throb. She swayed.

Raina’s hand on her shoulder roused her from her stupor. “You’s looking poorly, Miss Sara. We needs to git you out a dis dust fo you takes sick. No tellin’ what kind of sickness is up here.” Taking Sara’s elbow, Raina lifted her from the chair. “Jest lean on me.”

Sara tucked the book in her pocket, took two steps, and then stopped. “Get the paintings, Raina…both of them.”

“But—”

She smiled weakly at the maid. “I’ll be fine. Just get the paintings.”

Reluctantly, Raina did as she was told, but kept a sharp eye on her mistress. Juggling one portrait under each arm, Raina followed Sara down the steep attic stairs.

***

After supervising Samuel, whom Sara had summoned to hang the replacement paintings above the mantel, she sat on the foot of the bed and stared at them. Her resemblance to the woman in the portrait was uncanny. Her chestnut hair, the exact same shade as Sara’s, outlined her heart-shaped face with tight ringlets. They shared the same upturned nose, stubborn chin and high cheekbones. Even the tiny mole Sara had on her neck just below her ear had been added to the painting. Her eyes, the same shade of green as Sara’s, glittered with some inner secret happiness that Sara had notice in her mirror of late. If what Clarice had said about Jonathan and Maddy being in love were true, Sara didn’t have to try hard to figure out what secret Maddy’s happy smile hid, but it didn’t explain her own smile.

With that thought, her gaze slid to the painting of the man. He had to be Jonathan. With hair black as night and eyes the color of Spanish moss, Sara had no trouble understanding why Maddy had fallen in love with him. Just staring at his picture made Sara’s heartbeat race. How she longed to touch him…really touch him.

Impulsively, she went to the mantel and ran her fingertip over his cheek, then down to his lips. The skin on her fingers seemed to warm, as though she were actually touching human flesh. She pulled her hand back, but the sensation remained.

Something hit the side of her leg. She touched her pocket. Maddy’s diary. Carefully, she withdrew it. Hugging the book against her heart, she glanced once more at Jonathan’s captivating smile and then walked to the chair next to the window overlooking the Garden of the Moon. She sank into the chair, eager to learn what Maddy Grayson’s deepest thoughts were. She opened the cover. The faint odor of roses drifted up to her.

Then the door opened, and Raina poked her head in.

Sara frowned, impatient to be rid of her maid and get back to the diary. “Yes?”

“Miss Sara, deys a lady downstairs what says she knows you. Says Massah Preston sent her here.”

Reluctantly, Sara placed the diary on the small table beside her. “Did she give you her card?”

“No, ma’am.” Raina looked at the floor and shuffled her feet. “She’d don’t appear like the kind what would have a card.”

Growing increasingly impatient, Sara stood. “Well, did she at least give you her name?”

“Yes, ma’am, she sho nuff did. Says she’s Miss Juliana Weston.”

“Julie!”

With unbridled delight propelling her, diary forgotten, Sara bolted from the chair and nearly knocked Raina off her feet in her haste to get downstairs to see her dearest friend from boarding school.

***

Julie stood in the middle of the sitting room. Her raven-black hair, tied up with a blue ribbon, hung loosely down her back. Her faded, travel-worn, navy blue gown was wrinkled and soiled. But all Sara really cared about was her dearest friend. A friend she sorely needed right now. Julie understood her. Julie knew about Sara’s gift and never doubted her or laughed at her or belittled her because of it.

Sara squealed, rushed forward, and then hugged Julie so tight, she gasped for air. “I can’t believe it!” She stepped back to feast her eyes on the friend she hadn’t seen for almost four years. “You must tell me everything that’s happened to you since I last saw you.” She grabbed Julie’s hand and ushered her to the settee, calling orders over her shoulder to Raina to bring them refreshments.

Once they were seated, the questions poured from Sara. “Why are you in Louisiana? How long can you stay? Are you married? Did you bring him with you? Who is he? Where is he?”

Julie laughed out loud, the sound musical and light, but, to Sara’s ears, a bit forced. “My word, Sara, which one of those questions do you want me to answer first?”

The hollow smile Julie flashed at Sara lacked sincerity. This was not the Julie Sara had known at boarding school. That Julie had bubbled with life. Nothing dampened her spirit. When Sara had confided her problems to her, she’d always found the bright side of everything. But now, the inner light that had always made Julie shine was gone. Something was terribly wrong.

Taking Julie’s cold hand, Sara looked her in the eye. “Tell me.”

Julie’s beautiful gray eyes filled instantly with tears. The smile vanished from her lips. Her shoulders slumped. “Papa’s dead.” She grimaced, as though the words slashed a wound in her heart.

“Oh my goodness, Julie.” Sara pulled her friend into her arms and cradled her like a small child while she sobbed quietly. “I am so very sorry.”

Sara knew how much Julie had loved her father. Their love for their fathers had been what brought Sara and Julie together as friends. Julie’s mother had died in childbirth, and her father had transferred all the love he’d had for his wife to his infant daughter. He’d raised and adored Julie and from what she’d told Sara, they’d been inseparable. Her father had been the center of Julie’s life, and now he was gone. Sara couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of her friend’s loss.

After a few moments, Julie’s sobs ceased. She sat up and dried her tears on a handkerchief she pulled form her reticule. “I’m sorry. I just can’t speak of it without crying.” She laughed weakly. “Seems that all I do these days is weep.” She glanced at Sara then lowered her gaze to her clasped hands.

“There is nothing to apologize for.” She took Julie’s cold hands in hers. It struck her that they felt rough and totally unlike those of the well-groomed lady that Sara had befriended at school. “When did it happen?”

“Three months ago. His heart failed.”

“Three months ago? And you waited all this time to come to me?”

“I couldn’t come any sooner.” Julie rose and went to stare out the window. “There’s more, Sara.”

Silence followed Julie’s statement. She continued to study the scene beyond the window, as though deeply engrossed in what the field hands were doing. Unwilling to hurry her friend, Sara waited patiently for her to go on.

“The crops failed last year. I won’t bore you with the details. I’ll just say that poor Papa did everything he could to save them, but it was too late.” Her voice caught again. She swallowed hard, straightened her shoulders, dabbed at her tears, and went on. “He tried to get a loan to get us through the year and buy seed for the spring, but the bank wouldn’t take a chance and everyone we knew had suffered the same setbacks, so no one was willing to part with money they’d need to recover their own losses.” She glanced at Sara, and then came to sit beside her. “He never got back on his feet, either financially or emotionally. Oh, we tried. I even worked the fields beside him and our slaves.”

Julie’s worn, faded gown and the calluses on her hands now made sense to Sara.

“But it was too little too late. That final failure took the heart right out of him.” Julie shook her head as if to clear away unwanted memories. “When the bank took the plantation after he died to pay off Papa’s debts, I had to find somewhere to go. So I went to New Orleans to find you, and your father sent me here.”

“I’m so sorry, Julie.” The words sounded hollow and so…useless.

Sara knew how precarious the financial wellbeing of a plantation could be. A couple of years of bad weather or insect infestation could mean disaster. Often, a neighbor who had not suffered the same hardships could share his seed or provide the financial help for a planter to make it to the next year, but not if the neighbor had suffered the same loses.

Lifting her chin and looking more like the proud girl Sara had met at school, Julie forced a smile. “I didn’t come here to get your pity. I need a place to stay until I can find a position as a nanny or something and support myself. It’ll only be for a month or so.” She shrugged. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll understand.”

“Don’t want you here?” Sara sprang to her feet. “That’s just foolish talk! I won’t hear of you leaving. You’ll live here for as long as you want to stay with me. I’m all alone in a big house with more rooms than I’d fill in a lifetime. Truth be told, my mother would probably be very pleased if I wasn’t living here alone.” She pulled Julie to her feet and hugged her. “Now, Raina will take you to your room. You get some rest, and we’ll talk more at dinner.”

As Julie started from the room, Sara stopped her. “Julie, if it helps, I need you now as much as you need me.”

***

Chloe outdid herself with dinner that night. Julie hadn’t seen that much food in over a year. The table should have collapsed under the weight of a platter of crispy, brown roast pork with raisin sauce; candied sweet potatoes; yellow cornbread; stuffed, plump tomatoes; and chocolate cake so rich and sweet it made Julie want to swoon with every bite.

Her months of hunger finally satiated, Julie sighed contentedly, wiped her mouth on her napkin and sat back in her chair. “If you just moved in here, where on earth did you get all this food?”

Sara shrugged. “My cook, Chloe, said Papa sent it with the house slaves. As usual, he’s thought of everything.”

“Well, my stomach thanks him. But a few more meals like this and I’ll have to put my corset on the shelf and let out all my gowns…not that I have that many to let out,” she added, and her smile vanished. She looked down at the gown she’d chosen to wear for dinner. While it was clean and by far the best of the gowns she owned, the many washings it had gone through had made the material almost threadbare and had faded what was once bright pink to almost white.

A little over a year ago, her closet had bulged with her fashionable gowns. But that was before they had to sell them to buy food. She glanced at Sara and could almost see what she was thinking. Sara had always been a problem solver. If someone was in need, she’d be the first to offer help. This time, Julie was the one in need, but she couldn’t allow it.