The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) (4 page)

“Shh,” Delta soothed. “Don’t go blamin’
yourself, child. God needed that little baby in heaven. It weren’t your fault.”

Within moments, Miss Penbrook’s sobs
subsided, and her breathing slowed to a rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.
Delta laid her gently back on her pillow. She arranged the comforter over her
shoulders,
then
tiptoed toward the door, motioning for
Andy to follow.

“She can’t talk
no more
today.
You got a room where I can call you when she’s ready to go on?”

Andy shook his head. “I came straight
here.”

“It would be better for her to let it go.
You see how guilty she gets to feelin’ about her childhood.” Delta shook her
head and gave a low cluck of her tongue.

Disappointment swept through Andy. He had
hoped to do the interview in one sitting and then go home, write his story, and
claim the glory for a job well done. At the rate this woman was able to discuss
her life, he would have to make multiple trips to Oak Junction to get the whole
story. One hundred years was a lot of life to cover. It could take a year of
traveling down to Georgia between other assignments to get enough information
for a whole story about Miss Penbrook’s life. And who knew how much longer the
old lady would live?

“Delta, how long does her mind remain cloudy after one of
these episodes?”

A shrug lifted the ample shoulders.
“She’ll probably wake up spry and clear-headed in the mornin’ and be a-wonderin’
how come you left in such an all-fired hurry.” Her thick lips curved into a
hint of an indulgent smile.

Andy rubbed his chin, drawing the inside
of his cheek between his teeth. “Where’s the nearest hotel?”

She gave him a quick once-
over,
amusement sparking her faded brown eyes. “Honey, if
you go struttin’ around town actin’ like you’s from the North, you gonna get
yourself hurt. Where’s the nearest hotel?” she mimicked. “What you should be
askin’ is where can a colored fella stay for the night without gettin’ hisself
lynched.”

Andy frowned at the aging housekeeper,
then
nodded. “Of course.”

She gave him a quick pat on his arm,
then
moved to a small desk. In a moment she handed him a sheet
of paper with a name and address scribbled on it. “That’s my nephew Buck’s
place. It’s a roomin’ house, not a hotel, but you just tell him Delta sent you
and he’ll get you all fixed up.”

“Thank you, Miss Delta. You will get in
touch with me when Miss Penbrook is able to see me again?”

She nodded and showed him to the door. “I
still think it’s a bad idea. But you
cain’t
talk her
outta something she gets into that head of hers.
For some
reason she thinks she needs to tell her story.
And she won’t tell it to
no one but you.”

 
“I wondered about that. Why do you think
she wanted me?” Andy snatched his suitcase from the foyer floor. “Has she read
my work in the paper, or do you think she remembers me?”

“She remembers you. Still talks about the
smart little boy who used to get cookie crumbs all over her kitchen floor.”
Delta’s stern gaze captured his. “But if you really want to know why she asked
for you, you gonna have to ask Miz Penbrook yourself.”

Andy flashed her a grin and moved toward
the door. “I just might. Thanks for the address.” He stepped aside and allowed
Delta to open the door.

The same old
timer
who had brought him to Penbrook and likely saved him from the carload of white
boys, sat in his wagon just beyond the step. Relief shifted through Andy.

“Looks like ole Jeb’s waitin’ to take you
to town. Jus’ tell him you be wantin’ to go to Buck’s place. He can git you
there.”

“Thank you.” Plopping his hat on his
head, he sent her another grin.

The housekeeper regarded him with a
disapproving frown and closed the door.

Chapter Two

After a fitful night’s sleep, Andy rose
early, washed his face, and wandered downstairs toward the heavenly smell of
freshly boiled coffee and frying ham. Buck and Lottie Purdue proved to be a
loving couple with a houseful of children and had welcomed Andy warmly. They’d
even thrown in meals as part of the paltry sum he was paying for the use of a
room.

“Good morning, Mr. Carmichael.” Mrs.
Purdue’s cheerful smile greeted him as he entered the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Yes, ma’am. And please, call me Andy.”

“The children’ll be down soon, but you
might get to drink half a cup in peace.”

Andy smiled. “Children don’t bother me.”

“You must have some of your own, then.
How many?” Mrs. Purdue set a mug in front of him on the table.

“No.” A lump formed in Andy’s throat. He
swallowed it down with a gulp of burning coffee. “We lost two.”

Unable to abide the sympathy in the
woman’s chocolate brown eyes, Andy turned away from his hostess and slid his
finger around the edge of his cup.

“It’s all right.” She rinsed a dish under
running water. “You don’t have to talk about it. I lost three of Buck’s babies
before we got our first one. And look at how God’s blessed us since. A half a
dozen and another one coming early next year.”

“I don’t think God’s too inclined to
bless me with anything. But congratulations on the new baby.”

“Seems like you’ve been blessed with a
good job, health, a wife.” She turned from the sink and smiled. “Wouldn’t you
call those blessings?”

Mesmerized by her soft tones and easy
grace, Andy didn’t have the will to argue. Besides, children began to filter in
and clamor for their breakfast.

Directly after breakfast, a messenger
arrived from Penbrook House announcing that Miss Penbrook regretted she would
be unable to see Andy today.
Perhaps tomorrow.
In the
meantime, she sent a box containing several books she hoped he would find
interesting.

A heavy sigh escaped Andy’s lips as he
scooped up the box and headed back to his room.

He sat on his bed and fingered the books,
his stomach a whirl of butterflies as he realized what he had at his disposal.
Not only did the box contain Miss Penbrook’s diary--in several volumes--but
Madeline Penbrook’s and Catherina’s as well. He rummaged until he found the
diary containing Madeline’s thoughts after her miscarriage.

Vaguely aware of the rumble of thunder
outside, Andy stretched out on the bed and allowed Madeline Penbrook to take
him into her world.

March
1849

It
is settled. Tomorrow, Henry and I shall take Camilla and Catherina and move
back to Missouri. I ache at the thought of snatching the child from her mother.
After all, why did I abase myself to barter for human flesh if all for naught?
I am appalled that Henry would sell Naomi to his father without my consent. But
he insists our financial situation is not good and moving to Missouri will
burden him further. I believe he sold her to punish me, though whether the
punishment is due to losing his son or for defying him in the first place, I
cannot be certain. He has changed so much I scarcely know him at all anymore.
Or perhaps he has not changed and I never knew him to begin with.

At
any rate, I have promised my dear friend Naomi that I will look after her
daughter as though she were my own. Henry has reluctantly agreed we should raise
Cat as a white girl (for her skin is as white as my own), though I can see he
is unhappy with the idea. I would like to raise her as our daughter, especially
since, sadly, the doctor has advised it does not appear to be God’s will that
we have more children of our own. But Henry quite vehemently opposed my
request. Indeed the suggestion enraged him and I feared for a moment he might
strike me. Thankfully, he did not.

He
has decided that we should tell folks she is an orphan child we’ve taken in. I
despise the deception, but if I do not comply, Henry will insist she serve us
as a slave.

The
past few months have caused a wedge between us. I only pray our move north will
remind him of the lessons he learned about human equality before we were wed.
That he is willing to make the move is a beginning.

Praise
be
to God.

Missouri,
ten years later

“I’ve completed my lessons, Miss Maddy.”

Madeline glanced up from her needlework
and smiled at fourteen-year-old Cat. “Already?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The child worked so hard to please. She
far surpassed Camilla in lessons such as reading and writing. And, as even
Henry had to agree, Cat had a head for numbers.

“You’ve done very well, my dear. Come
with me. I have a gift for you.” Madeline set aside her sewing and stood.

Camilla looked up from her place at the
table, where she had been doing her best to ignore her lessons. “Have you a
gift for me, too, Mother?”

Madeline hated to reward her daughter’s
laziness, but she found it difficult to refuse the lovely blue eyes staring at
her, wide with pleading.

“Of course I have,” she replied with an
indulgent smile. “You may come along as well.”

The girls followed her to her bedroom,
where Madeline removed a package for each from the bureau drawer.

Camilla squealed. “Oh, Mother, how
lovely! A satchel--exactly like yours.”

“Yes.” Madeline smiled at the girl’s
enthusiasm. “And tablets so that you can keep account of your thoughts.”

Camilla flung herself into Madeline’s
arms and rewarded her with an array of kisses. “Thank you, Mama. Thank you,
thank you, thank you.”

Madeline laughed. “I trust you find the gift pleasing as
well, Cat?”

Cat’s eyes widened, then pooled as she
cradled the tablets to her chest. Swallowing hard, she nodded.

Madeline gently set Camilla aside and reached
for Cat. “May I have a hug from you as well?”

Camilla huffed and stomped on the
hardwood floor.

Cat darted a gaze at her and then back to
Madeline. “Must I?”

Taken aback, Madeline frowned. “Why, no.
But may I ask what has brought about this sudden aversion? You’ve been hugging
me all these years. Are you suddenly too grown up?” She kept her tone
deliberately light to disguise her hurt.

“No,” Cat replied hesitantly, but still
did not come forward. “It isn’t proper behavior.”

“Why, Cat.” Madeline could not disguise
her utter shock. “What an absurd thing for you to suggest.”

“Oh, Mother, you know it’s true. My
goodness, have you ever seen one of Gram’s slaves up and give her a hug?”
Camilla jutted her chin and gave a sniff. “I shudder to think what would
happen.”

Madeline’s heart wrenched as Cat’s cheeks
reddened and she lowered her gaze to the tips of her shoes. “Camilla Penbrook,
I don’t know where you get such ideas. While it is true that your grandparents
indulge in the institution of slavery, we do not. Cat is every bit as free as
you are in this household and as dear to me as if she were my own child. I
insist you apologize to her.”

Camilla’s eyes sparked defiance and, for
a moment, Madeline thought she might refuse. Thankfully, she obeyed. Though not
without a heavy sigh. “Sorry.”

“Now, go finish your lessons.”

Madeline turned back to Cat as Camilla
flounced off to do as she had been instructed. “What about that hug?”

A smile instantly covered the lovely,
angelic face and she rushed into Madeline’s arms. “Thank you, Miss Maddy,” she
whispered.

Madeline pressed a kiss to the top of her
chestnut curls. “You’re welcome, my dear. I hope you will find that writing
down your thoughts helps you sort through life’s setbacks and joys, just as I
have discovered for myself.”

They returned to the front room, Madeline
to her sewing and Cat to her tablets and inkwell. Madeline would have loved to
peek over the girl’s shoulder and read what was on her mind, but she determined
to allow each of the girls her own thoughts without threat of invasion.

The door flung open and Henry staggered
in, smelling of liquor. His bloodshot eyes made Madeline’s heart race with
disappointment. He had promised no more spirits after he lost his favorite
horse during his last bout of drunken gambling.

“Bedtime, girls,” she said quietly. “Run
along, now. Quickly. I’ll be in soon to hear your prayers.”

“Let the girls stay,” Henry said,
slurring his words. He staggered to his chair and sat hard. He reached out a
shaky hand and pointed at Cat. “Come ’ere, you.”

Madeline gasped. “Henry!”

Cat stood as though frozen in place, her
face drained of color.

“I said, come ’ere!”

Cat shuffled cautiously across the room
until she stood before Henry. He grabbed her arm. “Where is he?”

“Wh–what?” Cat winced as his grip tightened.

A sneer curled his lips. “Don’t play
innocent with me. You darkies know everything that goes on behind our backs.”

Madeline stepped forward and placed her
hand over his. “Henry, for mercy’s sake. What on earth are you talking about?”

He loosened his grip and leaned back in
his chair, though his gaze never left Cat’s face.

Much to Madeline’s dismay, living in
Missouri had served the opposite effect to what she had hoped for. Though most who
owned slaves held only one or two, a select few had acquired enough wealth to
merit Henry’s attention. He sought out these slaveholders for his companions
and openly opposed the abolitionists. The past few years had been highly
disappointing for Madeline and distressing, if not a bit embarrassing, for her
high-profile family. It broke her heart that she must be loyal to either her
family or her husband. But she had to think of the girls. So Henry received her
outward support.

However, this accusation and manhandling
she could not abide. “Henry, don’t you think you owe Cat an apology? Gracious,
I don’t know what has gotten into you.”

An unpleasant laugh rumbled from Henry’s
throat.
. .a laugh not quite reaching his eyes. “You would
have me apologize to
this.
. .this Negress? This
slave?” He ground out the words between clenched teeth.

“Cat is
not
a slave.”

“Yes, by heaven--” Henry rose unsteadily
on his feet and stood inches from Madeline, “--she
is
a slave.”

At the venomous look in his bloodshot eyes,
Madeline tightened her grip protectively around Cat’s trembling shoulders and
took a step back. Henry snatched the girl’s tiny arm again and jerked her
forward as though she were a rag doll. “Where is the runaway?”

“Wh–what runaway, Mister Henry?”

“Don’t play daft with me, girl.” Henry’s
voice rose, and he shook with fury. “I have it on good authority you were seen
going into Hanson’s barn last night. And now his brother’s slave, Horace, is
missing. And just when they were getting ready to head back to Georgia in the
morning. What do you know about it?”

Cat’s mouth dropped open, her eyes wide
with terror. “I--I swear, I don’t know anything about a missing slave.”

“For mercy’s sake, Henry, you’re hurting
her.”

Henry hesitated a moment, then dropped
her arm. “Make her tell the truth, Maddy, or so help me, I won’t apologize for
what I do to her.”

Fear caught in Madeline’s throat. Gently
she turned Cat from Henry’s accusing glare. He dropped once more into his
chair.

“Sweetheart,” Madeline said to Cat, staying
deliberately composed in the hope of restoring calm to the house. “Were you
inside the Hansons’ barn last evening?”

Tears glittered in Cat’s soft brown eyes.
She lowered her lashes. “Yes, ma’am.”

Behind them, Camilla released a soft
gasp. Madeline glanced up at her daughter. Alarm invaded her heart at the sight
of the girl’s pale face. “What is it, darling?”

“Nothing, Mother. I just cannot believe
Cat would be so wicked.” The look of utter hatred directed at Cat mirrored her
father’s. “I had no idea she wasn’t in our room all night.”

Madeline shuddered. Henry influenced the
girl far too much. “Camilla, it’s time for bed.”

The girl glared at Cat once more, then spun around and
left the room.

Madeline turned back to Cat. “What were
you doing in the Hansons’ barn last night? Did you help a slave to freedom?”

Swallowing hard, Cat met Madeline’s gaze.
“No, ma’am.”

“What, then?”

“I--
I.
. .”

“It’s all right. You can tell me.”

Tears spilled from her eyes and slid down
her cheeks. “I was meeting someone.”

“You see?” Henry shouted. “Didn’t I tell
you they always stick with their own kind? Who were you meeting, one of those
Quakers? Where did he take the slave?”

“Henry, please.” A sudden pain pushed at Madeline’s
temples, draining her strength. If Cat had been caught helping a runaway, there
was nothing Madeline could do for her. “Cat, whom did you
go
to meet?”

“Oh, Miss Maddy, I’m sorry.” Cat hid her face in her palms
and sobbed.

Cupping the girl’s chin, Madeline gave a
gentle nudge upward until she could observe all of the tearstained face. “Tell
me.”

“I went to meet Thomas Hanson. H–he
and his parents are visiting from Atlanta.”

Madeline’s heartbeat increased. “How do
you even know the boy, Cat?”

“I came upon him while I was walking one
day. We’ve met several times since. He’s ever so easy to talk to. He asked me
to meet him last night because he was supposed to go home today. I’ve never
snuck out at night before. I–I swear. We just wanted to say good-bye.”

Henry sprang from his chair and slapped
Cat hard, knocking her to the wooden floor. “What did you do with that white
boy?”