The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) (10 page)

Cat stood in baby Henry’s nursery,
staring out at the carriage block below. Her heart raced and she snuggled her
son closer. “He’s here,” she whispered against a downy head.

Mr. Hanson stepped out of the carriage,
tall and handsome like Thomas. Cat shuddered, remembering the kindness in his
eyes when he’d silently beseeched her to let Thomas go. She had been grateful
for his gentleness at the time, but as she watched him bend gracefully over
Camilla’s hand, then offer her his arm, hatred surged through Cat.

Camilla would not have Thomas. Even if
Cat couldn’t have him, she’d die before allowing Camilla Penbrook anywhere near
him.

Pushing away the dark thoughts, she
caught her breath as Thomas emerged. Even from the window, she could feel the
warmth of his presence. Cat noted with a sense of satisfaction that he
hesitated before accepting Henry’s proffered hand,
then
shook it stiffly. He had not forgotten either.

“Look up, Thomas,” she whispered.

As though he had heard, Thomas raised his chin. For a
moment his gaze captured hers and his eyes widened. Hope sprang inside her.
Perhaps Thomas didn’t despise her after all. She raised her hand to the window.
He kept his eyes fixed on hers for only a breath of time, then pressed his lips
together in a hard line and looked away.

Tears pricked Cat’s eyes. She turned in defeat from
the window. She laid the sleeping baby in his crib,
then
sat on her cot, tears sliding down her cheeks. Hugging her legs to her chest,
she rested her forehead on her knees and allowed the tears to flow.

Henry had ordered her to stay away from their guests.
“If you go anywhere near the Hanson boy,”
he’d
said the night before, his fingers biting into the soft flesh of Cat’s upper
arm,
“I’ll kill you.”

Cat shuddered at the memory of his cold blue eyes. She
would have willingly risked death to see Thomas, but clearly, he didn’t want to
see her.

The door creaked slowly open, and Cat glanced up. She
stiffened at the sight of her mother.

“Miss Maddy say for you to get the baby washed and
dressed. Master Henry
wantin
’ to show off his son to
their guests at dinner tonight.”

“Am I to take the baby down there?” Cat asked,
horrified at the thought of Thomas figuring out that she had borne Henry a son.

“No, baby girl. I take him down when Master Henry call
for him.”

Cat nodded. “I’ll have him fed and ready.” She waited
for Naomi to leave, but her mother stood there, scrutinizing her.

Finally she spoke. “Tell me why you was crying.”

“I wasn’t.” Cat jerked her chin up and glanced away
from her mother.

Naomi placed her hand under Cat’s chin and pressed,
forcing Cat to look at her. “Yes, you
was
.”

Cat scowled. “I wasn’t.” She jutted her chin.

Naomi settled next to her on the cot and placed her
work-hardened hands over Cat’s. “Sometimes the tears just come and there ain’t
nothin’ you can do about it, Baby. Jesus takes dem tears and puts ’em in a
bottle.”

“I’m sick of crying. And don’t tell me about Jesus.
He’s a white man’s god, not mine.”

Naomi gasped. “Cat! Don’ talk that way.”

“I will talk that way. Do you hear me, God?” Her voice
rose and she glared at the ceiling. “I think
You
’re
just like the rest of the white men in the world.”

Naomi shot to her feet, casting fearful wide eyes
around the room as though
afraid
Cat’s blasphemy might
bring the walls crashing down around them.

Shaking with self-induced fury, Cat rose and paced the
floor. “What kind of a god allows people to be work animals for other people?
We’re nothing more than dogs or mules, at the whim and mercy of cruel
taskmasters. What kind of life is this?” Tears streamed down her face.

Naomi placed her hands upon Cat’s shoulders. “You
thinks you got it worse than other slaves? At least you don’ have to work in
the fields from sunup to sundown. Sweating in the sun, freezing in the cold.
Then go back to the quarters and lay down with the master or any of the men on
the plantation. You might have to put up with Master Henry, but he won’t let
any other men nears ya.”

Cat laughed.
Loudly, hysterically.
“Do you really think Henry has me hidden away because he cares about me? Lord
Almighty, Naomi. I love Thomas Hanson. And he loved me until he found out I
have Negro blood. Henry’s just afraid Thomas might want to run off with me.”

“Oh, Baby. My baby.” Naomi gathered Cat close. Cat
resisted, but her mother tightened her hold until Cat relaxed against her.

 
“Oh, Mama,
why? Why does life have to be this way? Don’t I have skin as white as
Camilla’s? Why should she have Thomas?”

“That’s just the way things be, Baby.”

“What if the Yankees win and we go free?”

Naomi held her at arm’s length and looked sadly into
her eyes. “Will dat change who you be? Will it change the African blood in your
body? You find a strong man of your own kind.
A man who know
what it is to belong to another man. A man like dat will treat you good because
he know where you’s been. He
know
what you’s come
through.”

Cat snorted. “I’d rather be alone forever.”

Naomi narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. Cat met her
gaze, unwavering. She had not been raised in Miss Maddy’s parlor to throw away her
refinement on a man who would never understand her. How could a slave, or even
a former slave, ever know how to sit properly at a dinner table? Would he read
Lord Byron to her in bed at night? It was out of the question.

Little Henry stirred in his crib, mewling softly.
Cat’s milk let down as he opened his eyes and whimpered. Right now he was the
only bright thing in her life. At least as Henry’s son no one would ever know
he had any Negro blood. He would be a white man in every sense of the word and
would eventually inherit Penbrook. The family Bible listed young Henry next to
Camilla as Miss
Maddy’s
and Henry’s child. Cat nodded
in satisfaction. She would endure what she must as long as her son was cared
for.

*****

Two days later Cat sat in the garden behind Penbrook
House, nursing her baby. While Henry took the Hansons on a tour of Penbrook’s
extensive fields, Cat had taken advantage of the unseasonably warm December day
to allow baby Henry and herself a respite from confinement within the four walls.

Thomas and his family would leave Penbrook tomorrow.
Cat had hoped for a moment to speak with Thomas alone, but there had been no
opportunity to sneak in a word with him. Other than his arrival, she hadn’t
even seen him. A sigh escaped her lips. There would be no opportunity to thwart
any marriage plans Camilla might snag him into.

“What are we going to do, my sweet baby?”
She looked down at her son nursing euphorically
,
eyes wide open
. He grinned in response to her voice. Cat
laughed as milk ran from his mouth.

“That’s quite a boy you have there.”

Cat gasped. She stood quickly as Mr. Hanson stepped
into the garden.

Baby Henry let up a squeal of protest as her nipple
bobbed from his mouth. Cat pulled her dress closed and adjusted Henry to her
shoulder. “I--I didn’t know anyone was home.”

“Ah, yes, I thought I’d stay and prepare for our
departure tomorrow.” His eyes reflected the same kindness she’d observed that
night in the barn. Still, Cat watched him. If he took one step toward her,
she’d run screaming for the house.

“Don’t worry, my dear. I have no intention of
molesting you. Please sit. I can imagine Henry’s had you locked away to keep
you out of Thomas’s sight. And it appears with good reason.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” She wanted to bolt.
To return to the safety of the nursery before anyone found out she had
disobeyed Henry’s orders and left the room in the first place. After three days
without his abuse, she didn’t relish the thought of what he would do to her.

“I take it the child is yours and not Mrs.
Penbrook’s?”

Heat suffused Cat’s cheeks and she glanced away. “He
belongs to Miss Maddy. I’m his wet nurse.”

“I’m not a fool,” he said, without a trace of
gruffness. “Give me the baby.”

Fear gripped Cat and she tightened her hold.

“It’s all right. Let me see him.”

Reluctantly, Cat released Henry, who now slept
peacefully. He didn’t stir as Mr. Hanson held him in his arms.

“How old is he?”

“A few months.”

“How many?” He kept his gaze on the baby. “And don’t
lie to me.”

Cat cleared her throat. “Three.” Dear God, was he
going to expose them all? “Please, Mr.
Hanson.
. .”

“Surely you’ve noticed the resemblance. I noticed it
the moment I saw this child our first night at Penbrook.”

“I don’t understand.”

His gaze flicked across hers, and then his expression
changed. He handed her the baby and rose, straightening his vest. “It doesn’t
matter. Forgive my intrusion.”

Cat frowned as she watched him turn to head back to
the house. Then realization dawned. She glanced at baby Henry and gasped. “Oh.”

Mr. Hanson spun on his heel and walked quickly back to
where Cat sat. He cupped her chin and forced her gaze upward. “I assumed you
knew my son fathered this child. The resemblance is undeniable.”

Joy shot through Cat’s heart like a ray of sunshine
slicing through a black cloud. “Thomas?” A smile curved her lips. She glanced
down at her son and a new surge of love shot through her. Why had she never
seen it before?

“He must never know.”

Confused, Cat sought understanding in the depth of Mr.
Hanson’s gaze. There was no anger, no condemnation, only concern. She remained
silent, knowing if she tried to speak she would burst into tears.

With a heavy sigh, Mr. Hanson sat next to her on the
bench. “If my son knew he had fathered this child, he would take you both away
from here, someplace where you could pass as a white woman.”

“No, he wouldn’t. You didn’t see the way he looked at
me.”

“He’s seen you since our arrival?” He grabbed her
arms. “What did he do?”

“N–nothing. I only saw him through the window.
He--he didn’t look happy to see me.”

He released her and raked fingers through his graying
hair. “I apologize for scaring you.”

“Y–you didn’t.”

“Thomas is my only son.
My only
heir.
His sister and her husband live out West, so there is no one else
to run the plantation when I’m gone.”

Tears pricked Cat’s eyes. If she thought Thomas loved
her, nothing would keep her from telling him about his son. No one. “I won’t
tell him,” she said softly. “You have my word.”

Mr. Hanson’s eyes softened and he reached forward to cup
her cheek. “It’s no wonder my son fancied himself in love with you. If
only.
. .”

He stood once more, patted baby Henry on the head, and
strode to the house without another word.

Trembling, Cat gathered the baby in her arms and
returned to the nursery. How could she allow a monster like Henry to raise
Thomas’s son? If
only.
. . Mr. Hanson’s words hung in
her mind. If only she had no Negro blood coursing through her veins.

She allowed herself a brief moment to dream of what
life might be like should Thomas whisk her away like a prince in a fairy tale.
She sighed. Thomas was a prince, but she was far from a princess. And he would
never leave his kingdom for the likes of her.

1948

Ella closed the diary and set it on the nightstand as
Buck entered the room.

“I’ll take over the reading now, Ella. Lottie needs
you in the kitchen.”

“Duty calls, Yankee boy. I’ll see you later.” She
ducked out the door.

“You really don’t have to read to me, Buck. To tell
you the truth, I was having trouble keeping from dozing off the last few
minutes.”

“Your wife telephoned.”

“She did?” Andy’s heart leapt and he started to get
up.

“Lie down, boy. I told her you was hurt and shouldn’t
get out of bed.”

Andy scowled. “You shouldn’t have done that. I would
have talked to her.”

“I figured you might, but she didn’t want you hurtin’
yourself more. Just told me to tell ya she hoped you’d get to feelin’ better
soon.”

Disappointment swept through Andy. She hoped he felt
better soon? No words of love and devotion? No
offer to come
to Georgia and nurse him back
to health?

“Thanks for the message, Buck.”

“Don’t mention it, Son.” He hesitated a moment, then
Andy heard the squeak of his shoes as he headed toward the door. “I suppose if
you don’t want me to read, I’ll leave you to your nap. Just holler if you need
anything.”

“Thanks.”

Andy scooted more deeply under the covers and tossed
aside a couple of his pillows until he was comfortable in the bed. His head
throbbed and he reached for the bottle of painkillers on the nightstand. He
felt around until he found them, took two, and swallowed them down without
water.

Loneliness drifted over him. He lay awake for what
seemed like hours, thinking of Lexie and wishing desperately he had never gone
with Ella to
Georgie’s.

April 1863

There are only women in the house now. Henry rode
off to fight in the war right after the holidays. If there truly is a God, he
will not return alive. Most of the slaves have run away, as there are very few
men left to patrol and keep them in hand. The militia is too busy conducting
mock drills to bother with the fugitives.

 
Many of
the women are afraid to step out onto their porches at night for fear the
runaway slaves will accost them. I find this amusing. Camilla is beside herself
with worry and taxes my patience unendingly. I wear myself out doing her
bidding while I try to care for her poor mother.