The black swan (107 page)

Adam and Tom were already in the drawing room when Dulcie came downstairs. Resentfully she listened to the sounds of their voices talking in easy friendship, rising and falling in animation and excitement. It was another part of Adam's life she had never shared in. It was Tom's part, the part that had started in New Orleans when Adam was just a boy. With jealousy nipping at her, she entered the room, her brightest smile on her face.

Adam and Tom both stood, appreciating her with their eyes. She nodded toward Tom, her eyes sliding away hastily, then she stood on tiptoe to accept Adam's chaste kiss. Irritably she wished he had swept her into his arms so that Tom could see she had not caged him within the confines of some drawing-room life. All he had done was make it seem that Tom was correct.

"Tom tells me you two had a nice chat, Dulcie," Adam said.

Dulcie's eyes flashed as she glared at Tom's amused face. "It was by merest chance I was here when Tom arrived. As a matter of fact, Tom can thank my inabiUty to be prompt for our afternoon visit."

Tom chuckled. "There's always someone up there makin' sure good things happen when they're needed."

Throughout dinner Tom and Adam talked rapidly, sometimes using only half sentences, laughing at private jokes. She concentrated on holding her temper. She was sure Tom was doing this on purpose, showing her she didn't belong with Adam, that his world lay somewhere beyond her realm. She began to listen carefully, fixing names and places and events in her mind. Tom would stay with them for a few days, and the three of them would talk again. He would not find her so silent the next time.

"Ben writes that there was considerable cotton damaged in Wilmington last May," Adam said.

"Yep, about six thousand bales of cotton burned. Damned shame. How is ol' Ben?"

Dulcie started to attention. "We got a letter from Ben? You didn't tell me. Was there a note from Glory enclosed?"

"There was no message from Glory."

"Still, you might have told me. We always read those letters together."

"You wouldn't have been interested in this one—all business."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd permit me to decide what I find interestin', Adam."

"Well said, Dulcie. He always was too smart for his own good." Tom chuckled. "An' seein' as how we're jes* three civilians jawin' about a war none o' us has a part in, seems like you could have a say now and then. Ain't like it used to be when Adam knew firsthand of what he spoke."

"I won't rise to the bait that easily, Tom," Adam said.

" 'Let men not ask what the law requires, but give what freedom demands.' Know who said that, Dulcie, an' why?"

Adam angrily tossed his napkin aside. "Yes, I know who said that. But J;here's a limit to everything. I've done all I could. Now I want a home and a wife. It's time to settle down."

"I was askin' Dulcie."

"It was Jefferson Davis, I think," Dulcie said hesitantly, her eyes shifting uneasily from Adam to Tom. Tom's face was as hard-set as Adam's. "He ... he knew this war would be a long, thankless struggle and we'd all have to give well beyond what we were prepared to give in the early days."

"That about says it," Tom said grimly. "But it don't look like there's many who heed it. News is our lines get thinner everyday. Men losin' faith in our leaders. Men wantin' to go back home to see their loved ones. It's been a long, bloody siege. Hardly a family hasn't lost someone to the cause. Not too many can boast havin' all their limbs in good health. Now that the goin's gotten rough, our men are lookin' away, thinkin' they done enough, gave enough. You agree with that, Dulcie?"

Dulcie's food lodged in her throat. Adam's dark, angry eyes were riveted on hers. Tom had thrown her the opportunity to confront Adam with leaving New York. And she sat paralyzed, unable to say a word.

Adam shoved his chair from the table. "I'm going for a walk. But before I go, Tom, I'll mention I haven't been fooled into thinking you just moseyed up North to greet old friends. If you came to talk me into returning to the business, I might as well take you to Hans tonight. He'll have you on the first ship South."

Tom leaned back, relaxed, sucking on his toothpick. "Nope. What you do is your business. I'm here 'cause your daddy's got a whole wad o' my money tied up in Yankee greenbacks. I jes' don't trust all that paper. I'll take my money in gold."

"Most of your money is in gold," Adam said.

"Most ain't all," Tom said. "You still goin' for a walk?"

Adam looked at him sharply, knowing Tom was not telling the truth but unable to tell where the flaw was. Tom's face was unreadable. "Yes, I'm going. Would you like to join me?"

"I think I'll just sit here an* enjoy prettier company."

The next morning Tom went with Adam to the office. He was out of sorts when he returned to the house after lunch.

"Did you and Adam argue again?" Dulcie asked.

"Hell, no!—beggin' your pardon, Dulcie. What's the use o' arguin' with a fool who's got his eyes an' ears stopped up? If he's got the stummick to live in a place like this, I ain't got anythin' to say to him."

"You dislike New York that much, Tom?"

"Damned right I do! Not a one o' the pukin' bastards— beg pardort—can say a straight sentence. Went to lunch with some mealy-mouthed do-gooder talkin' about the sin o' the South an' the retribution o' God. Yep, I'll be glad to get home—if there's a home to get back to. Sherman's already stompin' 'round, gonna teach all us Rebels a lesson. Got those damned "Bummers" o' his goin' out ahead o' his army burnin' an' lootin' an foragin'. Once they come through a place, there ain't nothin' left. They're thinkin' to make us sorry. Only thing we'll ever be sorry about is that we lost."

Dulcie watched pensively as he talked. "Why did you come here?"

His eyes twinkled. "Mebbe I came jes' to see if I could dislodge Adam from you. Get him up off his ass an' back on his ship where he belongs."

"Yesterday I would have believed you and gotten my feelings hurt, but not today. Why did you come?" Tom sat down heavily. "You still haven't answered me," Dulcie said.

"If you was to nag Adam like you're naggin' me, he'd be on his way South afore the end o' the week. Or don't you want him back in the business?"

"I want him back in the business. And I want to go to Nassau with him, but not until he wants to go."

"Now we're gettin' somewhere. Sorry I was so rough on you yesterday."

"You didn't ask my forgiveness, and I'm not givin' it You were vile and cruel. But I accept your apology."

"Kind o' you."

Dulcie smiled. "Not very. And you still haven't answered me. Why are you in New York?"

"You might say I'm here on Adam's account, an' you might say I'm here on mine. I got a little unfinished business to tend. Been long overdue, an' now I mean to handle it."

At supper Adam and Tom talked as they had the night before. War news intermingled with sharp, probing questions. Adam always trying to get Tom to give his true reason for being in the city. Tom trying to force Adam into admitting he wanted to be back running supplies into Wilmington.

Later in their bedroom Adam was wakeful and irritable. Dulcie turned the gas lamp on again. "We might as well

talk. You're not goin' to allow either of us to sleep until your mind is settled."

Staring expressionlessly at the ceiling, he said, "I may have to be gone a couple of weeks."

"Where are you goin'?"

"I'm going to take Tom back to Wilmington. He won't go any other way."

"He asked you to take him home?" she asked, baffled.

"No, he didn't ask! I'm taking himi"

"And if he doesn't want to go?"

"I'm taking him!"

"Adam, what's wrong with you? You've never been like this before. What business is it of yours what Tom chooses to do?"

"Mind your own business, Dulcie."

"This is my business! You can't make people do what you want against their will."

"I know what he's up to, and I won't let him do it."

"Do what? What's he doin', Adam—I don't understand."

Adam's eyes were dark and coldly accusing. "He's trying to help me-—protect me."

"Don't look at me like that—Adam—"

"He's come to hunt down Edmund Revanche." Adam turned on his side, his back to Dulcie.

She turned the gas lamp off and slid, shivering, beneath the blankets to lie awake long into the night.

She was hollow-eyed and drawn the next morning. Adam left early for the office. Tom was teasing Bridget unmercifully.

"Mawin', Dulcie, you look like you wrestled with the Devil last night and lost."

"I think I did, Tom. Adam believes you've come to have it out with Edmund. Have you?"

Tom rubbed his brow, a smile playing on his mouth. "Adam thinks that, does he? Well, Dulcie, looks like my visit has jes' ended. It'd be a sight better if I weren't here when your captain comes home tonight."

"Then it's true."

"It's true."

"He won't let you do it. He thinks you're tryin' to protect him at your own risk. He's goin' to take you to Wilmington."

"He can't take me an5^where if he can't find me.'*

"Tom, please don't look for Edmund. Adam would find you. He'd go with you if he had to. Tom, please, 1 don't want any more trouble with Edmund. I couldn't stand it if anythin' happened to Adam now."

Tom sat quietly looking at her for a long time. "That's why I'm goin' after him, Dulcie. Edmund's caused all the heartache he's ever gonna cause. 1 been hidin' from him for near twelve years. Man like Edmund can put fear in you that ain't natcheral. He killed my Ullah jes' as mean an' cold. Stood there an' watched her be torn apart. An' he was likin' it. I seen him. I know. I could feel the laughin' inside o' him while she was dyin'." Tom's eyes stared into the past, fixed and large and blue. "Stood there with that ice-man smile on his face an' watched her screamin' for mercy."

Dulcie felt, sick listening to Tom paint a vivid picture for her of what Edmund was. She kept looking against her will at the thick, ugly scars on Tom's face and neck. She kept thinking of his crippled, painful walk. She kept remembering the suave, dark-haired, charming man who'd been the cause of this pain.

Tom's voice rumbled on. He gestured broadly, indicating himself. "Mebbe I coulda forgiven him this. When I married Ullah, I knew Edmund was gonna take it outa my hide somehow. He's got a powerful lot o' hate in him, an' I'd made him look a fool. Edmund was bound to come for me. But I can't forgive what he done to Ullah. She was helpless. An' he killed her." Tom looked up suddenly, gazing earnestly at Dulcie. "There's only two people in the world I love bettern' me, Dulcie. He killed one an' he damned near killed the other. Weren't for Johnnie Mae, Adam woulda died too. There ain't no way for you to know Edmund less'n you saw Ullah or Adam when he was done with 'em. He don't jes' kill, Dulcie. He likes the pain an' the sufferin'."

Dulcie was shaking. Tears streamed down her face and Tom's.

"Did you know it was Ullah that named him the Black Swan?"

"No," Dulcie choked.

"First time she ever saw him. He come up on us when we was swimmin'. Naked as two jays—an' him an' those whippersnap friends o' his were peekin' at us through the bushes. I damned near ruptured everythin' I got chasin'

him, but J caught him. I was mad enough to kill. An' Ullah she jes' looked at him an' got all mooney-mouthed, tellin' me stories about a pack o' white swans swimmin' on a lake an' in their midst is one black one. 'You jes' knows God made that one black swan somethin' special,' she says. An' then she says that's Adam. He's one o' God's special ones. Ullah always did call him her black swan. Seemed fittin', kind o' like it was meant to be when Juneau Nuit an' Rosebud picked up on it. Now he's the Black Swan to all her people."

"Tom, he has to go back to sea. He's not happy. He thinks he's stayin' here for me."

"Don't you worry none. He'll go back."

"What if he doesn't? He says he's finished—that he'll never go back."

Tom smiled. "You let him say what he likes. It won't change nothin'. There won't be no new South lessen there's Adam Tremain to build it. He's goin' back 'cause that's where he's needed."

Dulcie watched him as he climbed the stairs to his room.

Less than an hour later Tom stood in the entry hall, his portmanteau in his hand. "I'm happy I got to know you, Dulcie. You take good care o' our boy, you hear? Tell him good-bye for me."

Chapter Seventeen

Adam carried a bottle of Tom's favorite brandy under his arm when he came home from work. He was in high spirits. A bottle of brandy, an evening of ribald humor and reminiscing, and by midnight Tom would be properly drunk and tucked securely aboard the Black Swan sailing for Wilmington.

"Dulcie! Tom! Where is everybody?"

Dulcie emerged from the parlor. "Tom isn't here, Adam."

"When will he be back?"

"I don't think he intends comin' back—here. He'll go home, I suppose."

He set the brandy down. "You didn't let him leave!"

"Did you want me to lock him in his room?"

Adam's face contorted in anger. "You meddling little bitch! You told him! You talked to him behind my back!"

"Yes, I told him you intended to stop him. You had no right to make decisions for—"

Adam shook her. "Where did he go? Where is he? Tell me! You know!"

"I don't know! He said nothing! Adam! You're hurtin' me. I don't know!"

He thrust her away and ran into the street. He went to every major hotel, then cursed his stupidity. Tom would never go to one of those. He'd seek some small, out-of-the-way place. A rooming house, a place along the docks, a place inhabited by Tom's kind of people. He'd go to any one of a thousand hidden holes in the wall where Adam might stand two feet away and never know because anyone Tom trusted could be counted on not to betray him.

Adam felt defeat long before he was willing to admit it. He didn't return home, feeling bitter toward Dulcie, blaming her for allowing Tom to slip away. He slept at the office sitting in his desk chair. At first hght he began again asking questions, haunting restaurants, quizzing anyone he saw about a mutilated man with a strange crablike walk.