The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) (12 page)

A gasp left the older woman. “You’re washing the filth
from Yankee uniforms? The very Yankees who have stripped us of our land?
Our very existence?
I’d rather starve!” Without another
word, she swept her skirt aside and scurried away as though one more moment in
their presence might sully her very status as a Confederate woman.

“Good! Go!” Camilla shouted after Mrs. Cates and the
others who were slowly trudging away through the mud. “My mother wouldn’t have
wanted you here anyway!” She dipped and snatched a rock from the rain-soaked
ground. Cat grabbed her wrist before she could chunk it at the old woman’s
back. Secretly, she admired Camilla’s spunk, but reason prevailed.

“Camilla.” Cat shook the rock from Camilla’s hand.
“Don’t give her the satisfaction. Your mother would expect you to behave
properly. Besides, think about little Henry. He might need friends among these
people some day.”

Camilla’s face crumpled in light of Cat’s mild rebuke.
She dissolved into tears, clutching at Cat’s slim shoulders. Cat’s knees nearly
buckled as Camilla went limp in her arms. Struggling beneath the weight of an
unconscious body, she pulled at the young woman’s gown. “Wake up, before I’m
forced to let you drop.” Nothing would have given her greater pleasure than to
see the haughty girl, who had made her life a living hell, lying flat on her
back in the mud. But she’d promised Miss Maddy that she’d be good to Camilla--as
though they were sisters. Still, she was only physically capable of holding so
much weight. Rain trickled down her neck as she struggled to stay on her feet.

“Let me take her, Miss Cat.”

Cat looked up into the handsome face of Captain Stuart
Riley. Relief flooded her as he relieved her of her burden. He swept Camilla
into his arms and whisked her away from the family gravesite. Once inside, he
turned to Cat. “Where do you want me to lay her down?”

“In the parlor.” Cat led the way and slid open the
door. “Put her on the sofa. She hasn’t slept or had anything to eat for two
days. I’m surprised she held up as long as she did.”

Gently, he deposited his burden on the sofa.

In the foyer, Cat smiled up at the young officer. Dark
sideburns adorned his face and a fashionable mustache hung over his lip. In
return, he smiled down at her, his brown eyes filled with tenderness. “Thank
you, Stuart. I don’t know how to express my gratitude to you and your men for
all you’ve done.” Tears filled her eyes. “Miss Maddy would have liked you, I
think.”

Stuart’s soft gaze caressed her face. He lifted her
hand and pressed a warm kiss to her knuckles. “You and your sister have made
life bearable during the past two months. Do you know how much we admire your
determination to survive?”

Early in their acquaintance, Stuart had made the
erroneous assumption that she and Camilla were sisters. Cat had not bothered to
correct him. “There’s really no choice but to survive or die, is there?”

“That’s the spirit I’m talking about.” His grip
tightened on her fingers. “I admire you more than any woman I’ve ever met.”

Cat’s heart lifted with the praise. “Thank you,
Stuart.”

He reached out and trailed his finger along her
jawline. “So brave.”

Warmth filled her belly at the expression of
tenderness in his eyes. Closing her eyes, she leaned into his palm, grateful
for the comfort. Before she quite knew what was happening, she felt him shift,
and warm lips covered hers. Her eyes flew open. She stepped back, staring at
the captain.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“D-don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, Cat.” He took a step forward.

Cat retreated. She held up a restraining palm.

He placed his hat on his head and slapped his gloves
into his palm. “If I’ve misread your feelings for me, I apologize. But I
thought--”

“Please, just go.”

Bowing at the waist, Stuart turned. Cat held her
breath as his boots thudded against the hardwood floor. She released it only
when the door shut behind him. Her hands began to tremble and then the rest of
her.

Captain Riley was certainly nice enough, and Cat was
grateful for all he and his men had done for them, but that didn’t mean she’d
allow pawing and kissing and God knew what else he had in mind. She was
finished with men. Henry’s interest in her had resulted in physical pain and
demoralization. Even her love for Thomas had brought nothing but heartache. She
wasn’t sure what Stuart wanted from her, but whatever it
was.
. .

Outside, she heard Captain Riley order the men to
mount. Unease pricked her as she replayed her response to his advances. What if
he stopped bringing his laundry? Oh, dear God. What if he ordered his men to go
to one of the army wives from town
who
had joined
their Yankee husbands? Panic licked her insides, and she fairly flew to the
door. The men were already beginning to enter the canopy of oaks flanking the
lane to and from Penbrook House.

“Stuart, wait!”

Looking over his shoulder, he reined in his horse and
motioned his men to continue on ahead. Then he nudged his horse and galloped
back to the house.

He remained in the saddle and stared down at her as a
soaking rain continued to fall. “What’s wrong?”

Swallowing hard, Cat clenched her fists. “
I.
. .just wanted to apologize for my reaction.”

He remained silent, his questioning gaze demanding an
answer as she descended the steps. She pressed her hand flat against her
stomach, trying to ward off a knot of nerves. Rain trickled down her neck. She
forced a smile. Too much was at stake. “I can’t let you ride away if you’re
angry.”

Captain Riley dismounted. “Cat, Honey, you’re getting
soaked. Let’s go back on the porch.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and
headed her back up the steps. She reached for the door, but his hand restrained
her. He turned her to face him. “Now, what’s this about?”

“I–I
just.
. .” She
tore her gaze from his and stared at the brass buttons on his blue coat. “I
hope you aren’t angry with me. I--You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Look at me.” He placed a finger beneath her chin and
pressed upward until her eyes met his. “Do you mean to tell me you welcomed my
kiss? That you return my feelings?”

Confusion clouded her mind. What were her feelings for
Stuart?
Gratitude for his kindness, to be sure.
But
romance? She swallowed hard and nodded, forcing the lie through her trembling
lips. “I do. Truly.”

His lips curved upward into a smile, showing white
straight teeth. He pulled her to him.

Cat knew what she had to do. How many times had she
been forced to pretend she cared? She allowed instinct to take over. She’d been
well trained. Rising to her toes, she slipped her arms around his neck and met
his kiss. She melted against him, feigning a passion
she didn’t,
could never feel
. When his lips left hers, he kept her close, his
breathing heavy. He pressed his forehead against hers. “
Cat.
. .I need to tell you something.”

The door shot open. Camilla stood, shaking with fury,
her eyes wide,
face
white as a ghost. “What do you
think you’re doing?”

“Camilla, go back inside and mind your own business.”

“You are standing on my steps, behaving like a
common.
. .” She glared at Cat, fury burning red in every
line of her face. “You pretend to love Mother and yet less than an hour after
her burial, I find you like this.” Tears pooled in her large blue eyes.

Stuart released Cat. He bowed to Camilla. “I apologize
for giving in to my feelings on a most inopportune day.”

“Indeed.” She drew herself up to her full height, pulling
her shawl closer about her.

Cat knew she had to appease Camilla quickly before the
girl began another rant. “I’m sorry, Camilla. You are right. It was not the
right time. H–how are you feeling?” Weariness suddenly overcame her
strength and it was all she could do to remain standing.

“A lot you care. You left me alone.”

Irritation and embarrassment nipped at Cat. “What
would you have me do? Sit and watch you sleep?”

Brows narrowing, Camilla fixed her with a dangerous
glare. “I think you’re forgetting yourself.”

Stuart looked from Cat to Camilla. Cat’s face burned.

Ever the hero, Stuart inclined his head. “I’m sorry,
Miss Camilla. I’m afraid it’s my fault your sister wasn’t there when you
awoke.”

A short laugh shot from Camilla’s lips. “Sister? Is
that what she told you?”

“Camilla, please.” Cat would have gladly scratched out
the other girl’s eyes. Or cut out her tongue to prevent her from speaking the
inevitable.

Ignoring her, Camilla fixed Stuart with a rigid glare.
“No Negro girl is my sister, Captain Riley. And yes, that is what this girl is.
She is a slave in the Penbrook household. Nothing more.”

Bile rose to Cat’s throat. Anger blinded her. Camilla
continued her spiel to the speechless captain. “Or perhaps she was a little
more than a slave. She was also my pa’s mistress.”

Humiliated beyond words, Cat stared at Camilla, then
looked into the blanched face of the Yankee captain. She backed away a few
steps, turned, and fled into the rain.

1948

Lottie’s choked voice read the last few lines of Cat’s
diary entry for the day of Madeline Penbrook’s funeral. “Poor girl.”

“Yeah.”

She heaved a sigh and set the book on the table beside
Andy’s bed. “I’m so grateful to God that my girls are free and will never have
to go through what our grandmothers did.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call our state of being ‘free,’
” Andy retorted. “Especially in the South.”

Lottie gave a short laugh. “At least it’s a higher
degree of freedom than the slavery our ancestors had to put up with.” Her voice
faltered. “My girls can go to school. College if they want.”

“Colored schools. Colored colleges.
Substandard
educations, Miss Lottie.
That’s not freedom. If your daughter drinks
from a whites-only fountain, you think she can tell the policeman arresting her
that she’s free to drink wherever she wants?”

“Those things will change in time.”

“Yes, but will it be in our lifetime?”

Her features softened and her eyes seemed to look past
him, as though she were attempting to look into the future. “I don’t know. But
for now, I’m grateful my daughters and me don’t have to worry about being raped
by our masters. We make our own living. My husband will never be beaten for not
picking enough cotton to suit a white-trash overseer.”

Remembering the young men who had stopped him on the
road to Penbrook House on the day he arrived in Oak Junction, Andy shrugged.
“There are other things he can be beaten for.”

Lottie laughed without humor. “Perhaps, for example,
insulting a colored girl in front of the white man who loves her so deeply he
can’t see straight?”

Heat shot to his ears at her pointed comment. He sent
her a wry grin. “I see your point.”

“Tell me about your family, Mr. Carmichael. I know
your wife must miss you terribly. I’d die if Buck took off for even a few days.”

Andy closed his aching eyes. Lexie’s beautiful face
floated across his mind. Robert’s oily chuckle followed the image, souring it.
“No one is dying of loneliness over me.”

She cleared her throat “What about your parents?”

“I don’t have parents.” His tone was harsh. He knew
it, but he couldn’t find the strength to apologize.

“You did at one time.” She paused and took a breath.
“I knew your mama.”

“You did?” She was a bit young to have been a peer of
his mother. “How did you know her?”

She shrugged. “I just did. From the day I was born,
‘til the day she died. She loved her children so much. I know she missed you
something awful. I’ve seen her cry over you.”

Andy snorted as memories flooded over him. Begging her
not to send him away. Her tearful eyes as she put him on a train bound for
Chicago. The last time he saw her.

“How do you know it’s the same woman?” Oak Junction
wasn’t that big, but he’d been gone for decades. This Lottie would have been a
little girl when he left.

“Aunt Delta told us who you are the night she sent you
to Buck and me.”

“Miss
Penbrook’s
nosy
housekeeper?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything, Andy. Just forget I
ever did.” Lottie shuffled to her feet. “Besides, you’re looking awfully tired.
I’ll let you rest for now.”

Andy listened to her soft steps as she made her way
across the room and quietly closed the door behind her. He had a lot more
questions for her. The sorts of questions more suited to a boy of ten than a
grown man. Why did his mama send him away and keep his brothers and sisters?
Why hadn’t she wanted him?

From Camilla’s
diary

September 1864

Mother has been
buried for two weeks. To my great joy, I have discovered her diaries. She wrote
in them every day before her illness forced her to stop. There are many, many
tablets and books upon which she wrote, from the time she married my pa until
only a few months before her demise.

Reading her
thoughts brings me closer to her.
To know the depth of her
love for me.
It disconcerts me to read that she loved Cat as a daughter.
She has said it enough times, but somehow the reading of these--her deepest and
most honest thoughts--makes it more painful.

Cat. I admit I
can’t abide her uppity ways. But then I suppose now that she perceives herself
as free and seems to have taken it upon herself to provide for us, she must
feel as though she is justified in disobeying God’s laws. “Slaves, obey your
masters.” For that is what the Scriptures command.