14

Later that day, Laura sat curled up in the front parlor, reading. The draperies were open to let in the fading afternoon light, and Laura settled comfortably on the newly covered settee by the window.

She tried for the fifth time to begin the tedious narrative of the final book in James Fenimore Cooper’s Leatherstocking Tales. Natty Bumppo was unable to hold her attention, however, and she finally gave up. Closing the book harder than she’d meant to, Laura was surprised to hear a gasp from behind her.

Looking over her shoulder, Laura found Esther quietly dusting some of the furniture. “’Scuse me,” Esther said. “Ya startled me—tha’s all.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Laura said, getting to her feet. “I’m afraid this book is utterly boring.”

“Cain’t ’magine a book bein’ borin’, iffn y’all pardon my sayin’ so.”

“Well, normally I would agree with you, but Mr. Cooper has managed quite capably.”

Esther’s expression took on a faraway look. “I reckon iffn I could read, I’d be happy for to read Mr. Cooper. Be like touchin’ the sky.”

Laura cocked her head to one side as she considered the woman’s words. “What do you mean . . . touching the sky?”

The black woman looked at her sheepishly. “I apologize for goin’ on. Never did know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“No, I’m curious.” Laura could see that Esther was rather embarrassed. “Please tell me.”

The black woman’s face took on a distant look. “I always wanted to learn to read. I saw the white folks readin’ . . . writin’, too, and wished I could do the same. Since I was jes a girl I wanted to read. My ma used to say that wantin’ what ya couldn’t never have was like touchin’ the sky. It’d be mighty nice, but weren’t ever gonna happen. All ya could do was gwan dreamin’ ’bout it.”

Laura recognized the start of an opportunity and stepped toward Esther in a most conspiratorial manner. “I could teach you to read.”

Esther’s dark eyes widened. “I ain’t got the brains for such learnin’.”

“Of course you have. You just haven’t been given a chance to use that brain for learning. If you give it a try, I think you’ll find that reading will be easy for you.” Laura wasn’t sure that would be the case, but she firmly believed that heading into any project with a positive spirit gave a person a leg up on those with a negative one.

“How ya reckon we could do it?” Esther asked in a hush.

Laura smiled at her nervousness. “Well, we could meet in the morning before breakfast.”

“I gots to start workin’ at five.”

“Then what if we met at four thirty? At first we will just meet for about twenty minutes. No sense overwhelming you.”

“But ya’d have to be gettin’ up so early.”

Laura shrugged. “I can always go back to bed. In fact, if I meet you in the kitchen before Cook gets up, we could have our lesson there. I could just come down in my nightgown and robe and if anyone sees me, it will just look as if I came down for an early morning snack.”

Esther put her hand to her heart. “Iffn you truly think I can read, I’d be proud to try.”

A smile spread across Laura’s face. “Then it’s settled. We can start in the morning.”

Laura didn’t think about the fact that she might be up quite late until Brandon arrived to join them for supper. Her mother and father were delighted with the prospect of an evening’s entertainment.

“We haven’t had any quality musicians since the war began. So many of the men who played were called away,” Mother explained as they finished their dessert.

“I can vouch for the musicians in this group. They once played for President Lincoln himself,” Brandon explained.

Mother got to her feet, and the men rose, as well. “I will go freshen up a bit and perhaps you men can have a cigar before we depart.”

“I do not smoke, ma’am,” Brandon told her, “but I thank you for the invitation.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Laura’s father said, “I will arrange for the carriage.”

This left Brandon and Laura alone. Laura accepted Brandon’s help up from the chair and smiled. “I believe you’ve made my parents very happy. My mother delights in social events, and my father delights in my mother. When you make her happy, he is not far behind.”

Brandon laughed. “I could hear my father saying something similar. He always believed that the woman of the house commanded the emotions of the family.”

Laura led him to the front sitting room, where she’d left her shawl. She had just retrieved it when Brandon drew close.

“I hope you’ll pardon the whispers, but I wanted to tell you something in private.”

She nodded and gave him a hint of a smile. “Do tell.”

“I spoke with my friend Major Armstrong. He’s the one who is helping General Russell with the investigation I mentioned earlier. He believes your information will be quite valuable. He wonders how you feel about aiding the army in this matter.”

“I told you before that I would help in any way I can. I’ve never trusted Malcolm, and now I’m worried that he is hurting my sister. Carissa has always been quite naïve, and I fear this time she’s gotten herself into more trouble than she can manage.”

“As I mentioned earlier, this isn’t without risk. If your brother-in-law is the ringleader that the army believes him to be, then this won’t be the first time he’s plotted murder.”

Laura swallowed hard. “Truly?”

Brandon nodded in a solemn manner. “I’m afraid so.”

“Sam will bring the carriage around momentarily,” Laura’s father announced as he joined them. “It looks to be a pleasant evening. There isn’t a cloud in the sky.”

“I am certainly happy for the lower temperatures,” Laura declared. “Goodness, but I don’t know how you men manage in your coats and vests, not to mention long sleeves. Why, at least I can shorten mine.”

“That is why you most often see me working without a coat,” Father said with a wink. “I keep it close at hand, however, just in case your mother comes to check up on me.”

Laura laughed. “Mother should understand. She was the one who mentioned that perhaps now that the war was over, we could consider trips north during the heat of the summer.”

Father rolled his eyes. “Yes, she mentioned it most every day last summer. Had she not had your sister’s wedding to contend with, I believe she would have insisted we travel north to check out properties.”

Laura patted his arm. “Well, it wouldn’t be such a very terrible thing now, would it? To have a little house up north where the summers are cool and easy? I believe that sounds quite pleasant.”

“You’re from Indiana, if I remember right,” Laura’s father said, looking to Brandon. “How do you fare in the summers?”

“They can be quite oppressive,” Brandon replied. “You must remember: We are near the Ohio River, not that far north at all. We have our share of humidity and heat to be sure. However, we grow some of the finest crops you could ever want and certainly do not contend with the same degree of temperature and dampness that you do here in Corpus Christi. We also have some very lovely shade trees. . . .”

“Ah, there you all are,” Mother said, unaware of what Brandon had been saying. She swept into the room and handed her shawl to Laura’s father. Allowing him to assist her with it, she smiled. “I’m not sure I’ll need this, but I feel a chill in the air.”

“Indeed,” Brandon said as he helped Laura with her own wrap. “The breeze off the water is cool. I would imagine you’ll be thankful for your wraps by the time we return.”

Mr. Gaston appeared at the door. “Your carriage is ready, sir.”

Father grasped Mother’s elbow and led her to the door. Brandon leaned close to Laura and asked, “Have I told you how lovely you are tonight?”

A wave of satisfaction washed over Laura. She’d picked this particular gown of pale pink Indian muslin just for him. The delicate pink was overlaid with a very fine weave of Irish lace on the bodice, while the skirt billowed from several stiffened muslin petticoats.

“You are quite generous with your compliments,” she replied. “I only just received this gown a week ago. Mother had ordered it some time ago, but things were put on hold in order to have Carissa’s wedding gown made. It’s better suited to summer, but I couldn’t resist wearing it tonight.”

He gave her mischievous grin. “I’m glad you did. You look beautiful.”

Laura lost herself for a moment in his gaze. He had the most beautiful sapphire-colored eyes, and his lips practically begged her touch. She found herself starting to reach out and then stopped herself short.

“You take my breath away,” he whispered. “If you continue to look at me that way, we might never make it to the musical performance.”

Laura’s mouth dropped open, and he reached up with a finger to close it again. “Now, now. Your parents will wonder what in the world is amiss, and then what would you say?”

“I would tell them the truth,” she said, regaining her composure. “I would simply explain that you were . . . breathless . . . and needed a moment to regain your composure.”

He chuckled and pulled her forward. “Come along. We mustn’t keep you parents waiting.”

The following morning, Laura moaned as she forced herself to get up. Esther had come to wake her but had departed before Laura managed to push back the covers. She’d gotten to bed quite late, just as she’d feared, and four o’clock in the morning seemed impossibly early.

Nevertheless, a promise was a promise and she intended to see it through. Donning her robe, Laura fastened the ties and went to her vanity. Esther had left a single lighted candle on the table beside the door, and from this glow, Laura could see well enough to brush her long hair and braid it into a single plait. She suppressed a yawn.

The evening had been magical. The music had been superb, but Laura was even more in awe of the way she felt about Brandon Reid. She knew without a doubt that this was the man she hoped to marry. Never had she felt this way about any other man.

She all but floated down the back stairs and into the kitchen, where Esther was waiting at the table. Smiling, Laura nodded at the small black slate and chalk.

“I see you found them without trouble.”

“They was in the pantry jes like you told Cook.” Esther looked at the slate and chalk as if they were gifts of gold and silver. “Thank ya for lettin’ me borrow ’em.”

“They are yours to keep,” Laura said. “They were some we used when still in the nursery. I found them upstairs in the attic.”

She took a seat at the kitchen table beside Esther. “Now, we will begin with the alphabet.”

Esther turned up the lamp a bit to brighten the room. “Pardon my sayin’ so, Miss Laura, but mebbe it would be best iffn we begin with prayin’. I’m gonna need the good Lord’s help iffn I’m gonna read.”

“You are very right. We should begin all of our endeavors with prayer.”

By the time Cook made her appearance twenty-five minutes later, Laura and Esther were more than ready to wrap things up. Laura longed only to climb back into bed and catch a few more winks of sleep, and Esther was clearly overwhelmed with the information she’d been given.

“Don’t fret, Esther,” Laura assured her. “This will come to you in time. We will go as slow or as fast as you need.”

“Thank ya, Miss Laura.”

Cook, a thick-waisted black woman, smiled a toothy grin. “You learn that real good, Esther, then you can read to me.”

“You could learn to read for yourself, Cook,” Laura interjected. “I could teach you just as well.”

“Ain’t gettin’ up any earlier than I hafta,” the older woman declared. “My bunions and rheumatism are already actin’ up sumptin’ fierce.”

Laura patted the woman on the arm. “We could always arrange to meet in your room by the stove. I would be happy to teach you to read.”

Cook shook her heavy face. “I’ll jes let Esther read to me. It’ll do her good to practice.”

“Very well,” Laura replied, heading for the stairs. “But if you change your mind . . . let me know.”

Laura slipped back into bed and felt that she had barely drifted to sleep when Carlita was throwing back the draperies and bidding her good morning.

“I want to sleep for a while,” Laura told her and pulled the covers up over her head.

“Your mother said you must accompany her to your sister’s,” Carlita declared. “You are going shopping, remember?”

Laura had all but forgotten her mother’s plans for the day. With a sigh she lowered the covers and yawned. “Better get me some strong tea and lots of cream.”

Carlita laughed. “I go get it now. I bring your breakfast, too, and tell your mother that you get ready. When I come back I help you dress.”

Knowing there was no recourse, Laura got up and made her way to the vanity for the second time that morning. The clock on her mantel revealed the hour to be nearly nine. She had slept a long while, although her body didn’t seem to realize it.

She couldn’t help but think about the things Brandon had said regarding Carissa’s husband. Her sister loved Malcolm Lowe; how could Laura interfere with that? But how could she put the lives of hundreds of men in jeopardy?

“Carissa doesn’t even know what she feels,” Laura told herself as she unplaited her hair. She ran her fingers through the long wavy mane and wondered how in the world her sister would take the news when the truth was finally revealed.

Malcolm would be hanged if Brandon was correct about him being a murderer. Laura couldn’t suppress a shudder. She feared for her sister—the bruises on Carissa’s arm had likely come from Malcolm’s hands. The very thought filled Laura with such anger that she began to wonder how she would behave the next time she found herself alone with Malcolm.

Carlita entered the room soundlessly. She deposited the breakfast tray on the vanity top and took up the hairbrush. While Laura poured cream into her tea, Carlita began to brush and style her hair.

“You no sleep well last night?”

“I slept, but . . . well . . . you mustn’t say anything.” Laura paused and looked toward the door, then decided to switch to Spanish. “I got up early this morning to give Esther a reading lesson.”

“Ah,” Carlita said, nodding. “I remember when you taught me English,” she replied in her native tongue. “You are a wonderful teacher, Miss Laura.”

“Thank you. I think it’s important that people be able to read and write English. It is very difficult to conduct even the simplest business transaction without a proper command of the language. Reading is especially important, especially for the children. Now that the war is over, we must endeavor to do what we can to educate the former slaves.”

Carlita carefully tucked a pin into Laura’s hair and nodded. Laura nibbled on a piece of toast, then sipped at the steaming tea.

“You must hurry,” Carlita said in English as she finished arranging Laura’s hair. “Your mama says be ready to go by ten. She is anxious to see your sister.”

“She feels Carissa’s absence very keenly. . . . I’m sure Mother worries for her.” Laura didn’t bother to add her suspicions that there was good reason for her to do so.

Carlita smiled. “All mothers worry about their children.”

Laura nodded and gave a quick look in the mirror. Carlita had fashioned Laura’s hair in a simple but fetching manner atop her head. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

Carlita hurried to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. “It is sunny out today, but not hot. What will you wear?”

“I suppose the blue walking dress,” Laura said, hoping the temperature would remain cool. Her mother would want her dressed properly for their outing, but Laura had no desire to pass out from the heat should the day warm overly much.

By ten minutes before ten, Laura made her way to the front parlor, where she’d expected to find her mother waiting most impatiently. Instead, she was surprised to find her brother-in-law and mother in deep conversation.

“Your brother-in-law brings sad tidings,” Mother declared.

“I’m afraid Carissa is feeling unwell. I have demanded she stay in bed and rest,” Malcolm said as Laura entered the room.

Laura couldn’t help but frown. “Perhaps we should go and tend to her, Mother.”

Malcolm spun on his heel. “There is no need. She was already sleeping by the time I left.”

Laura met his gaze and raised a brow in question. “Surely when she awakens she will need someone to assist her.”

Malcolm shook his head. “I have everything well under control. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that she would be unable to join you today. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must hurry or I’ll be late for my next appointment.”

Laura wanted to ask him about his job, but Malcolm was already halfway to the door. She followed him and when he opened the front door, Laura called out, “What type of sickness is my sister suffering?”

Malcolm stopped just outside the house. He looked at her with an expression that suggested annoyance. “Nothing more than a headache. I’m sure she’ll feel better soon.”

Laura narrowed her gaze. “I suppose she’s been working too hard . . . moving furniture and such.”

Malcolm looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Movin’ furniture? Hardly. Carissa wouldn’t have the ability to move those heavy pieces. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.”

Laura watched him hurry to where he’d tied off his horse. Malcolm mounted and gave her a brief salute, then kicked the horse harder than needed. He had no way of knowing that by his own admission he had condemned himself. No doubt the bruises Carissa suffered were delivered by his hands. Laura could only pray that Carissa’s headache, if indeed it was a simple headache, wasn’t also brought on by Malcolm’s actions.