Rescued (Flowers of the Bayou) (3 page)

Melanie didn’t make it a common practice to be a visitor at Jordan’s home but on one occasion that she had been, she inquired upon a portrait of a beautiful woman that hung over the fireplace in his study. It was as if he’d seen a ghost when he’d glanced at it and with forced passion he’d nearly carried her up to his bed where he ravished her until dawn as if trying to prove something or forget. The next time she was in the large mansion the picture had vanished.

She never asked questions of Jordan, knowing that if she did he would soon dismiss her or remain in a foul mood for the remainder of the evening. She had learned rather quickly that trotting down that path left him only in a bitter disposition.

Melanie kept her ear finely tuned in her small circle. Given her profession she didn’t have many female friends. But with diligence Melanie dug deeper and found out more than she ever wanted. She understood his stance toward women. Could understand why he didn’t love her. It didn’t make it easy to accept. She wished she hadn’t pried, because now Melanie knew about his sad past, his family, the women he kept.

The women, of course she knew about them, in fact some of them were her friends. He knew this yet it never stopped him. She knew it and it never stopped her either. The truth was the more she heard about the women the more she thrived to win him for herself, and the more she resented the fact that she loved him.

Replaying his laughter in her mind again Melanie told herself again she’d learned her lesson, all the time knowing it was a lie—she’d take whatever he gave her and run with it. She laughed in spite of herself; she was sleeping with the finest man the world had set eyes upon and she loved him with every part of her being. And he could care less. How ironic. At least I have him tonight she thought and all the women in the city were dying of envy. Turning to him Melanie blew up a kiss before putting on a sad pout. “Until tomorrow then, but I surely won’t like it.”

“But you’ll survive.” Jordan added pulling open the door and walking out.

*

Amelia grabbed the pie before it fell—she didn’t want to wake up Vivian and Andrew— their rooms were too close to the kitchen. In the harsh winter months it was heaven sent but during the blistering summer days and nights they all had to send out prayers to survive.

Picking up the pie, she set it aside and out of reach of those who might come and try and steal a slice. The pie was for Lorraine, and it was her favorite, peach cobbler, very sweet.

Amelia stayed with Lorraine for two days at the weeks end, one would think that they’d spend their time sharing stories and enjoying each other’s time, instead of opposite sides of the modest cabin only coming together over a slice of silly too-sweet pie.

Amelia sighed, Lorraine had a cruel bone in her that was uncanny. Maybe she’d cook an apple crisp as well in case she was in a mood. As thin as Lorraine was it was a surprise she wasn’t as large as a cow she ate most any and everything.

The crisp would be too much; she would suspect something was amiss. Amelia would stick with the peach cobbler as her normal peace offering. Hearing the soft clicking of heels as Vivian made her way into the kitchen Amelia was drawn from her thoughts.

“How are you dear, you look ill and you turned in early last night.” Vivian swept a piece of her honey blonde hair away from her face, and placed a cool hand on her friends head. “Well, you feel fine.”

“I was just tired last night.”

“You’re sure? I could finish up here and you could sleep a little longer before I see to Georgia.”

“Vivian I’m alright and I am more than half way done.”

“You wouldn’t tell me if you were troubled anyway.”

“I’m not troubled, now sit and eat.”

Vivian pulled the chair closest to her and plopped down none too gracefully; at forty-five she was becoming wearier by the day. Yet her pretty face belied her true age, most would never suspect the truth of her years. With all of the doting Amelia bestowed on her, no one ever would.

Vivian looked at the younger woman and smiled, reaching out to wipe a flour smudge from her face. Her heart sometimes ached for Amelia. She had yet to find her voice in a world that stood against her not only as a woman, but as a negro.

Vivian was sure she was meant to be much more than what she was, but worse than that, Vivian feared she’d never see half the happiness she deserved. It wasn’t a possibility with Morgan Hanson. Every time she thought about it she wanted to make her way down to Lorraine’s house and slap some sense into her. Morgan was nothing more than a gnarled up abusive corpse.

“Does Mr. Bradford take his breakfast in his quarters or downstairs?”

“I believe Mr. Bradford will be taking his breakfast in his room”

“What about Georgia? She was so excited last night I doubt she won’t be beating down his door already or still fast asleep.”

“Awake or not she will take hers in the dining room like the young lady she is.”

Amelia reached for the serving tray next to the washing bin and started to place all of the items she figured Mr. Bradford might enjoy eggs, bacon, biscuits, orange juice, sausage, hot cakes, and country fried potatoes.

Vivian looked down at the heap of food on her own plate and she shook her head. She didn’t know for the life of her why Amelia cooked all that food. Vivian wasn’t complaining the woman was a damn good cook; it was just how she expected them to eat it all Vivian didn’t know.

“Well then,” she said taking the tray she had prepared for Mr. Bradford in hand. “I better get to it.” Grabbing the trays, Amelia balanced them precariously and almost dropped the precious cargo she bore twice. She wasn’t expecting a thank you, it was what she was paid to do but bringing Mr. Bradford his meal was proving to be a task almost not worth the trouble.

Finally Amelia reached the two large oak doors that lead to his bedroom; she felt as if her arms were going to fall off but she managed to pull off one more trick, rapped on his door and shimmied in.

The bed was empty and there was hardly any light leaking through for her to see two feet in front of her. Placing the tray lightly down Amelia finally spotted him asleep in the chair farthest from her. Making sure she was discreet so as not to startle him, Amelia made her way to him only once being tripped up in her quest by a discarded shirt lying limp at her feet. Snatching it up, she decided she would add it to the laundry.

Peering down she smiled, and couldn’t help herself when she tiptoed over to get a closer look at his handsome face and upon doing so decided handsome was not correct, he was beautiful, Amelia resisted the odd urge to toy with the unruly lock that hung now in his face. She felt lost all of a sudden; she had planned to wake him to inform him that breakfast was hot and waiting but decided against it now. Stepping back she hurried to the door and shut it behind her.

The wind from outside rustled the curtains and the breeze came over to brush against Jordan’s still form, carrying with it the soft scent of breakfast. Waiting until he heard the soft click of the door shutting, his eyes drifted open.

He’d remained quiet and lazily lounged back in his chair the whole time the girl was in his room, at first not finding any reason to let her know he was indeed awake.

Then when he heard her approach him, he thought maybe it would have been in his better interest to do so, seeing how she was standing over him. In truth he hadn’t expected her to come over to him at all.

Jordan had felt her eyes on him studying, and kept quiet. He didn’t wish to frighten her but it would have been priceless to reach up and grasp her. Rising from his cramped position in his chair Jordan made his way to the large feast that she must have prepared. It looked good and smelled just the same. Taking a bite of the biscuit he wasn’t surprised to find its taste was in line with appearance. Aside from being a bit shy, the woman was a good cook.

Jordan thought back to that day in the kitchen when he’d first saw her and laughed picturing her wringing her hands—she’d made an impression then Jordan recalled, because when she had glanced at him he was taken in by her eyes, they were prettiest shade of brown and Jordan could have sworn they had gold flecks in them. He’d have to confirm that at a later date. Georgia had said her name was Amelia.

Taking a bite of the eggs on his platter Jordan was impressed—he’d never liked them much, yet her eggs might grow on him. There was a bevy of food for him to choose from. Sampling the sausage Jordan decided it too was good and made up his mind to try a little of everything.

He should have grabbed her, Jordan thought absently. Then he could have seen those pretty eyes. It was strange though the way she crept up on him just moments ago, his interest was piqued. She was odd. They might have half a chance of getting along; he had never been one to enjoy monotony. Wasn’t that why he traveled and sailed around the world, for the adventure? If he was honest he’d admit it served a real purpose of helping him forget. His past was a reminder of how foolish he’d once been—it was an embarrassment.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Jordan let his mind wander as he reached over to the tray on the side of him. It was early, yet there was plenty to attend to, dragging his feet across the carpet Jordan opened the door that adjoined his main room and stood before the marble sink and mirror.

Morning stubble was ever present but he decided against a shave. His cousin had been aghast when he decided to spend a small fortune on the latest indoor plumbing but he’d grown accustomed to the bath houses in Europe and desired his own. The cast iron pipes imported from Europe flooded the claw foot tub at his whim and were a luxury he was glad to afford himself. Besides, whenever he could convince Melanie to come to his bed he planned on finding new ways to enjoy the contraption.

Turning the silver knob connected to the basin he filled it with the cool water before submerging his hands within to scoop the water up and wash his face. The cool liquid was refreshing and Jordan felt all that was left of his sleepy state ease away. The tub looked welcoming but as he went to fill it he faintly heard the creaking of his bedroom door.

“Are you awake?”

It was Georgia, Jordan moved to open the door but she beat him to it bursting through and barely missing him.

“Sorry.” She yelped half shocked. “You’ve been asleep too long.” Georgia informed him while pulling him behind her.

“That a fact?” Jordan grinned lifting the girl up in the air before quickly dipping her to the ground. Her giggle was infectious.

Nodding with a grin a mile high Georgia began dragging her brother out to the room again. “Where are we going?” he asked barely managing to button the last button on his worn shirt.

“A tea party.”

Jordan grimaced, but conceded all the same. After all she was his sister. He nearly tripped as she turned back around in the middle of her near run and stopped. Catching himself he looked down at her expectantly.

“In here.” Georgia instructed, opening the door to her painfully bright and equally white- filled room. “Sit here.” Pulling out a tiny red chair from the white tea table, she offered it to her brother.

Looking at the small chair Jordan stifled a chortle “Georgia, let’s go into the kitchen.” It was likely he would break that stool. And perhaps he would thank their maid for the bountiful breakfast.

CHAPTER THREE

Georgia pulled playfully at Amelia’s hair determined to get her attention. But Amelia was listening intently on the instructions Vivian was giving out as the stood in the hot resting room. It had been three whole days since they’d spent any time with each other.

Her brother had taken her everywhere since he’d come home and Georgia was ready for a break. Yesterday when she’d sought out her friend she couldn’t play because she had to go over to Lorraine’s. The day before that she had managed to get Amelia into her playroom, but when she’d convinced Jordan to join in Amelia had remembered she had other chores.

Braid pulling was getting her nowhere fast, taking note of this Georgia sighed heavily. Amelia always had something to do or somewhere to go. But it never stopped her from playing before. “Are you mad with me Amelia? Was I bad?” Georgia finally asked.

Stopping mid-sentence Amelia peered down at the little brunette, perplexed. “Now why would you think a thing like that? You’re my sweet girl.”

“But you haven’t come to play in ages?” The pretty child pouted.

Amelia smiled and hugged the child to her. “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy, sometimes I have to do things that you just can’t.”

Georgia was not convinced. “You didn’t pay attention to a word I was saying.”

“Just daydreaming, little minx, I’m not mad at you.” To prove her point Amelia gave the child another tight squeeze and kiss on the head just as the grandfather clock chimed eleven. “We will go for a walk tomorrow after your lessons.”

“Can we go now?” Georgia asked excited. “Mrs. Langston was sick yesterday and said she would be back next week on account of a cold. I hope she has it for a long time.”

“Shame on you Georgia.” Vivian scolded lightly

“She’s mean and I don’t like her. Neither does Amelia.”

“I can’t say that I’ve been around her enough to like or dislike her, but I’m sure that she’s got good traits just like everyone else.” Amelia scoffed while knitting her perfectly arched brows together and placing her hand over her mouth to smoother a yawn that tried to break out.

Amelia knew Mrs. Langston to be mean. In fact she could be meaner than a bag of rusted nails. But she also knew better than to admit it out loud. If she had, Georgia would never find herself in another lesson. Yet Amelia did sympathize, understanding far too well why Georgia would make a comment like the one she had, having found herself to be hard pressed to keep a civil tongue around the woman. Mrs. Langston was from Mississippi and just couldn’t keep that condescending tone in check when talking to coloreds.

Gazing out of the window, Georgia tapped Amelia on her shoulder lightly. “It sure is nice out today isn’t it?” She hoped the older woman would catch on. Maybe they all could go out to the park, or fishing.