The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) (6 page)

She captured his gaze, regarding him with
tender, almost sympathetic brown eyes. “I’ll save you a slice and you can have
it tomorrow.”

Suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, Andy
stood and cleared his throat. “I’d appreciate that. Good night.”

By the time Andy took a hot bath, his
watch read eight o’clock.
Still early enough to call Lexie at
her parents’ home.

He slid on his robe and tied it around
his waist, then made his way downstairs.

The phone rang a dozen times before Andy released
a disappointed sigh and hung up. He wandered back upstairs and took out the
next diary. Stretched out on his bed, he was once again transported back in
time--on the words of a fifteen-year-old slave girl.

Spring
1860

I’ve
decided to stop praying altogether. After months of unanswered prayers, I took
matters into my own hands and put an end to it tonight. At least I believe I
did. I hope I did.

Henry
Penbrook (I refuse to call him Master, Mister, or sir in my writings or my own
thoughts) will not come to me in the dark again. I hid a very large, sharp
kitchen knife under my bedding, and tonight, when he started to put his hands
on me, I slid it out and pointed the tip at his throat. His eyes took on a look
of fear that I must admit I relished.

I informed
him if he comes near me again I will slice him ear to ear, for I would rather
hang than be forced to succumb to his disgusting desires ever again. He was
angry.
Angrier than I have ever seen him.
But he left
me alone.

Later,
I heard Miss Maddy crying, so I crept from the storeroom and listened outside
their bedroom door. Henry informed her we are moving back to Georgia to live
with his parents again on Penbrook plantation. Miss Maddy pleaded, but Henry
insisted he has had enough of the North. He said that fool Lincoln will
probably be elected president, and if that happens, the southern states will
secede from the Union. He will not live apart from his own countrymen.

Miss
Maddy asked him what
will
become of me.

Henry
said perhaps in the South,
I’ll
learn my place. But I
will never believe I am less of a human being than he is just because I have a
trace of Negro blood. As a matter of fact, I am more human than Henry Penbrook
could ever hope to be.

My
greatest hope is that I will be able to speak with Thomas again before we
return to Georgia. Penbrook plantation sits only twenty miles from Thomas’s
home. If we move back
there, he is bound to
learn the truth about me, and he will no longer look at me with love in his
eyes. I can’t bear the thought of his hatred.

I
tremble at what is to become of me back in the South. I want to run away and
never come back. But who will look after Miss Maddy if I go?

Chapter Three

December 1860

Cat tiptoed through the dark house,
taking care not to disturb the loose board in front of the door. She felt sure
Henry had purposely loosened the slat to alert him should she try to sneak out.
But Cat was too clever for him. She knew where to step to avoid the creaky spot
beneath the woven rug.

Besides, nothing would keep her from
sneaking out tonight. Thomas Hanson had returned to his uncle’s home and would
remain through the holidays.
Three whole months.

Finally, an answered
prayer.
And she planned to get to him before Henry did. If Thomas
was
to learn about her bloodline, he would hear about it
from her.

Perhaps she would give God another
chance. After all, Henry hadn’t touched her in months, and she would see Thomas
one more time before Henry and Miss Maddy moved the family back to Georgia.

The familiar ache began in the pit of her
stomach and rose to her chest at the thought of returning to Penbrook
plantation. Impatiently, she pushed it away. Tonight wasn’t the night to worry
about that. Tonight she only cared about feeling Thomas’s strong arms about
her, listening to his wonderful stories and dreams for the future.
Their future.
She would allow herself to live the dream.
One more time.

Please, let him be there. Please.

She stepped into the darkness and ran
toward the woods that separated Henry’s property from Mr. Hanson’s.

Breathing heavily, she reached a small
clearing in record time and smiled. Thomas paced in front of the barn. Her
heart leapt as she recalled the last time they were together, six long months
ago.

She pressed her fingertips to her lips
and could almost feel his soft kisses.

“I’ll
be a planter, just like my pa,”
Thomas had said, passing along his
excitement to Cat.
“And you’ll be my
wife.
. .the lady of my home.”

He had pulled straw from her hair and gazed
longingly into her eyes as she echoed his words of love. Now she understood the
desire she had seen there. She’d seen a similar look in Henry’s eyes countless
times. Cat pushed aside the unsettling comparison and gathered air into her
lungs to compose herself. She smoothed her trembling hand over her hair. It
felt strange to be outside, with her hair flowing down her back, but Thomas
loved it that way, so she had loosened her braids and let them blow in the
wind. Closing her eyes, she conjured the feeling that his hands running through
her tresses had evoked in her.

“Thomas,” she whispered into the darkness
as her footfalls brought her within sight of him.

Without a word, he turned and quickly
closed the distance between them, gathering her into his arms. He had filled
out in the past six months, and Cat could feel the hardness of his chest,
shoulders, and arms as he held her.

“Oh, I prayed you’d be here,” she
breathed against his ear.

He pulled away slightly and studied her
face in the moonlight before grabbing her hand and leading her into the barn.

“Where else would I be?” He shut the door
behind them. “I tried to get a message to you, but there was no opportunity. I
hoped you’d feel my presence and come to me.” He crushed her against his chest
and sank his fingers into the thick mane down her back.

A soft sigh escaped Cat’s lips as she
relished his tenderness. “I missed you so much.”

He released her for a moment--only long
enough to pull her to a corner of the barn. When they were seated, he gathered
her close once more. “I love you, Cat. I can’t go back to Atlanta without you.
I intend to speak to my pa about a betrothal.”

Cat gasped and pulled away to stare up at
him. “Oh, Thomas. Do you think they’ll let us? I only just turned fifteen. And
anyway, Henry sold the farm. We’re going back to Georgia directly after
Christmas.”

Light shone in his eyes and he grinned.
“That’s perfect. Do you know how close we’ll be? Why, Penbrook
is
only twenty or so miles away. That’s merely a day’s
travel by horse and buggy. I could escort you to parties and court you
properly.”

Cat’s heart leapt and she couldn’t help
but catch some of his excitement as she envisioned the two of them dancing and
sitting in the parlor. But reality penetrated her dreams with heart-wrenching
clarity. Who knew how long she had before Henry revealed the truth to Thomas?
Then she would lose him forever.

As if sensing her hesitation, he released
a frustrated breath and pulled her close once more. “What is it? You still
share my feelings, don’t you?”

“Oh, Thomas, of course I do. Don’t ever
doubt it. Even for one second. I’ll love you until the day I die.”

“So I may speak to Henry about courting
you once you return to Georgia?”

Again, Cat felt a sense of dread fill
her. Henry would never allow it. He would tell Thomas the truth. Then Thomas
would hate her. Tears welled in her eyes as she lifted her chin and pressed
against him.

“Kiss me, Thomas. For now, let’s not talk
about it. Please? Just hold me.”

With a moan, Thomas covered her mouth
with his. Caught in the sensations spreading through her, Cat scarcely noticed
when he lowered her to the soft hay. She hesitated only a moment. Then, because
she loved him more than life, she allowed his caresses. She felt his love in
each
kiss.
. .each caress. . .and she knew she would
refuse this man nothing. He loved her as she loved him. Though they would never
marry, she would allow herself this one night of his love. Then she would let
him go.

Later, she lay in his arms and wept as he
caressed her hair.

“I’m sorry, Cat,” he whispered as her
tears fell upon his bare chest. “I should have waited. I had no right. Forgive
me. We’ll run away and get married tonight. We won’t even wait for permission.
I’ll make this right.”

Unable to speak for the pain clogging her
throat, Cat wept harder and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Darling, please. Calm down.” Thomas’s
voice held a tone of near panic, and his grip around her tightened. “I’ll never
forgive myself for taking advantage of your innocence.” He reached into his
trouser pocket and produced a handkerchief.

Cat
raised
up on
her elbow and dried her eyes. “Thomas, there is something you must know. It
will change everything, but before I tell you, promise me that you’ll always
believe I love you more than life itself.”

“As I love you.” He pressed her palm
against his lips. A frown creased his flawless brow as she slipped her hand
gently from his. “You can tell me anything, Cat.
Especially
now.
Nothing will change how I feel about you.”

Cat’s heart ached, knowing the love in
his eyes would soon change to contempt and anger and, in all likelihood,
hatred.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her
confession became a gasp as the barn door flung open, allowing frigid air to
blow inside.

“Pa!” Still bare to the waist, Thomas
shot to his feet. He stepped in front of Cat’s unclothed body to shield her
from two pairs of glaring eyes. Mr. Hanson stood in the doorway with Henry.

“What are you doing with my girl?” Henry
demanded. Ignoring Thomas’s effort to guard her, Henry stepped around the young
man and grabbed Cat’s upper arm roughly. In spite of herself, she cried out in
startled pain. Standing naked before the men, shame filled her, and she
clutched her clothing close with her free hand.

“P–please,” she said, her lips
trembling from cold and fear. “M–may I dress?”

“Shut up, slut.” Henry raised his hand
and brought it hard across her face. The force of the attack sent her crashing
to the ground.

Thomas knelt beside her, trying to cover
her with her clothing. He glared up at Henry. “What kind of man are you, sir?
I’ve half a mind to call you out.”

“Tread lightly, Son,” his father
cautioned. “You don’t know the whole truth here.”

Attempting to shield her nudity from the
other two men, Thomas helped her to her feet,
then
stood in front of her. “I know that a young lady has just been accosted by
this.
. .this. . .”

The blood left Cat’s face at the filthy
word Thomas used to describe Henry. She recognized the warning glint in Henry’s
eyes, but undaunted, Thomas continued. “This lady is unclad and freezing, and
you
gentlemen
haven’t the decency to avert your gaze and allow her to
dress.”

“Put on your clothes,” Henry commanded,
jerking his head toward an empty stall. Cat knew from the darkness in his eyes
that the violence he was holding back from Thomas, he would unleash on her as
soon as he had her alone.

“The least you can do is allow her some
privacy,” Thomas said, his words a command. The older men looked away, but not
before Cat saw Henry’s face redden with fury.

Cat dressed quickly, watching the
unsteady rise and fall of Thomas’s shoulders. If only she could go to him once
more before he learned the truth.

As if sensing her need for his strength,
Thomas moved to her, gathering her to him before Henry could grab her again.
“Pa, I know we’re young, but I love Cat. I’m sure you’ll agree that she’s been
compromised, and we have no choice but to marry right away.

Mr. Hanson regarded Cat for a moment. The
absence of anger in his blue eyes caused more pain than a thousand lashes. His
gentle gaze told her he knew she loved Thomas, but he would never be hers. All
she could do was prevent Thomas from fighting his pa and breaking his ma’s
heart. The outcome of tonight’s disaster lay securely in Cat’s hands. She
nodded to Mr. Hanson,
then
moved from the protection
of Thomas’s arms.

Lifting her chin, she turned to face her
beloved, relishing the love in his eyes one last time.

She squared her shoulders and gathered a
deep breath. “Thomas, it’s not possible for us to marry. You haven’t
compromised me.” She stepped toward Henry.

His expression changed to confusion.
“What do you mean? Don’t you see? We have to get married now. They won’t stop
us.”

“Yes, they will.” She forced herself to
meet his gaze. Her heart nearly broke at the confusion she found there.

Henry took her by the arm and led her
roughly to the door. “I don’t mind young Thomas using my girl.” He regarded Mr.
Hanson with a leering grin. “But if he got her with child, I’m not paying a
stud fee.”

“Must you be so coarse?” Thomas’s father
scowled. “The boy made an unfortunate mistake.”

A short laugh escaped Henry’s throat. “No
hard feelings. Young Thomas couldn’t help himself. These black wenches have a
way about them white men can’t resist.
Especially this one.
Believe me, I know from experience.”

Bile rose to Cat’s throat as he turned
his dark gaze on her, eyes flashing with the threat of what she knew was to
come.

 
“What do you mean, calling Cat a black
wench?” Indignation edged Thomas’s tone. “You dare compare her to a common--”

“The girl is a slave.” Mr. Hanson
released a resolute sigh and clapped his hand down on Thomas’s shoulder. “She
belongs to Mr. Penbrook, Son. You know Mrs. Penbrook’s family is outspokenly
abolitionist. She insisted they raise this girl as a white. Against his better
judgment, Henry graciously allowed his wife her fancy. But when he realized the
girl was coming to meet you, he did what any respectable gentleman would do and
informed me immediately. And it’s a good thing he did before you made quite an
embarrassing error. Taking your pleasure is one
thing.
. .and understandable for a young man of your age. But imagine if you had
followed through with a marriage. Though it would not have been binding,
obviously, it most certainly would have humiliated your uncle and abused the
hospitality of his home. Not to mention the embarrassment your mother would
have been forced to endure.”

Cat stared at the tops of her boots
during Mr. Hanson’s inflectionless discourse, but as silence filled the barn,
she could no more have kept her head down than she could drain the Negro blood
from her veins. She lifted her gaze to find Thomas staring at her in horrified
disbelief. Her stomach sank. Somehow she had
hoped.
.
.of course, it had been a foolish hope, but a dream nonetheless. She had hoped
Thomas loved her enough to overlook her one-eighth Negro blood.

A shudder coursed through her. She rubbed
her arms. Looking down at her own pale skin, she felt tears prick her eyes.
Wasn’t she as white as any one of the men in the barn? Yet they stood, as
though better than she, accusing her, condemning her for being in love with the
wrong color of man. Did they expect her to fall in love with and marry a black
man?
An ignorant slave?
God forbid. There was no place
for her. She was too black to be white and too white to be black.

*****

I’m too white to be black and too
black to be white. I’m nothing.

Andy almost dropped the journal as he read
the words he had spoken of himself countless times. From his bed, he glanced
out the window into the darkness illuminated by intermittent flashes of
lightning. Rain beat insistently against the glass, demanding attention.
Striding to the window, Andy glanced out and frowned at the water standing in
the streets. If the rain didn’t let up soon, he’d be stuck in the room another
day. Not that he minded reading the diaries, but he had hoped to visit with
Miss Penbrook as soon as possible to fill in a few details. So far, he had read
Madeline’s and Cat’s accounts of the years living in Missouri--fascinating
reading, but not much he could use in writing Miss Penbrook’s memoirs.