A Time for Everything (24 page)

“
No, sweet boy. You wrote
something beautiful.”

A rustle near the door drew her
attention. Sallie Mae disappeared behind the doorframe as soon as
Portia spotted her.

“
Sallie Mae,” Portia said
as gently as possible, “would you like to come in?”

Her little head appeared in the
doorway again, eyes wide and uncertain. She nodded.

“
Come in. Have a
seat.”

She did as requested and perched on
the window seat. Her bare brown feet dangled a few inches from the
ground. She hugged a cloth doll under her chin and smiled,
revealing a gap where two front teeth had been.

“
How old are you, Sallie
Mae?”

“
Eight.”

“
We were just doing a
little reading and writing. Would you like to join in?”

Sallie Mae sighed down at her doll. “I
can’t read much, ma’am.”

“
I see. You’re welcome to
sit and listen in, if you’d like.”

“
I’d like that, if I ain’t
in the way too much.” She lifted her head, and Portia immediately
recognized the look in her bright, eager eyes. Here sat a child who
craved knowledge, one who would, if given the chance, take what she
learned and do great things with it.

Portia laughed and
gestured around the study. “You won’t be in the way in this big old
room.” Sallie Mae giggled at that, and Portia added, “Would
you
like
to learn
to read?”

The little girl nodded emphatically,
and of course, the challenge posed so cruelly by Oliver Clemons
came to the forefront of Portia’s mind. More importantly, though,
she would be teaching a child to read, opening up a whole new world
for her.

Lucy stepped in the room, keeping her
voice quiet but harsh. “Sallie Mae! What you doin’ in here, child?
Get back in the kitchen!”

“
Yes, mama.” She scooted
off the window seat and ran out behind her mother.

“
I’m terrible sorry,
ma’am,” Lucy said, sounding exasperated. “She won’t bother you no
more.”

Portia stood and came
closer to Lucy, noticing a purplish welt under the young woman’s
eye.
Best not to mention it now.
She pretended not to notice and kept her voice
light and joyful. “She’s no bother at all. Actually, I was
wondering how you would feel about letting her sit in on Jonathan’s
lessons for an hour or so each day?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, ma’am, I
couldn’t have you teachin’ her like that, not interruptin’ Mr.
Stanford’s son and all.”

“
She wants to learn to
read, and I’d love the opportunity to teach her. But I won’t
proceed unless I have yours and Mr. Stanford’s
permission.”

Crossing her arms, Lucy bit her lip
and sighed. “She knows her letters, ma’am, and can read a little.
But Tipp and me, we can’t read much more than she can. I’d love her
to do better than that, but I don’t want nobody gettin’ upset about
it.”

“
I understand. But while
you’re here, it could be the perfect opportunity to keep her
occupied. And…” she added, winking at Jonathan behind her, “Jonny’s
getting plumb bored listening to me prattle on all day. He could
use another schoolmate to keep him company.”

Playing an actor worthy of a
Shakespeare comedy, Jonny nodded, let out a dramatic sigh, and
slapped his hand to his forehead.

Lucy laughed a little. “All right,
ma’am. You can teach my girl if you want and if it’s all right with
Mr. Stanford. But if she bothers you at all, just send her back to
me.”

“
I will do my best,”
Portia said.

Sallie Mae poked her head around the
doorframe, her pretty dark eyes looking expectantly up at her
mother. Lucy hugged her daughter to her side. “Thank you, Mrs.
McAllister, for your kindness.”

Reclaiming her seat by Jonathan’s
desk, she could hardly wait for lunchtime. Not for the food, but to
find Beau and ask him to agree to her plan. She hoped he’d see the
good in it and not be swayed by Oliver’s remarks. Lucy and Sallie
Mae weren’t slaves anymore, so they should be able to learn if they
so desired.

Still, the chance of her idea being
rejected shadowed her optimism. But as the noon-time hour closed
in, she thought of the huge hurdle she had already crossed just by
coming there in the first place. Asking for permission to teach a
child to read should be as easy as finding the roast pig at a
barbeque.

~~~~

“
That was
exhilarating!”
Lydia craned her head
straight up to look at Beau where he stood precariously on the
rafters. She was breathless with rosy cheeks and locks of blond
hair escaping from beneath her riding hat. Her mount — the gorgeous
new Standardbred she’d gifted him — pranced along the earthen
stable floor, foaming at the bit and glistening with sweat. She had
just taken a solo ride through the fields, and from the looks of
it, a wild ride at that.

Beau hammered one last
nail into the intersection of crisscrossed boards. He hung the
hammer on his belt and carefully lowered himself to the ladder. He
really didn’t like heights — it made him queasy and slightly dizzy,
especially if he looked down. But the sagging door frame needed
shoring up, and that meant he had to play monkey for a while. It
also meant he had to make the most of this lumber, since he’d run
up his tab at the mill. He quickly learned that asking for any sort
of financial assistance meant one of two responses. There was the
polite,
“I’m sorry, Beau, I can’t loan you
any more…”
but more often it involved the
word
Yankee
and
curses he hadn’t known existed until he joined the army.

He had to sell something. Shoot, he’d
sell that highbred horse Lydia sat upon if he knew anyone with
enough money to buy it. He couldn’t stomach that big a loss on such
a fine animal. Not yet — not until he had no other choice. But
harvest time was a long few months away.

Finally reaching solid ground, he
walked to the pretty filly and rubbed her neck. “You really should
have let her cool down more.”

“
Oh, she’ll be fine,”
Lydia said. “She’s young enough to handle it.”

“
Overheating
any
horse is asking for
trouble.” Her flippant attitude bit into Beau’s good sense. No
matter how much a horse was worth, he’d always cared for them well.
Lydia might have been used to throwing money away, but she’d have
to do better if she wanted to share his company.

“
Sorry.” She held out her
hand, and he helped her dismount from the sidesaddle. Lydia dabbed
her forehead with her handkerchief.

Beau removed the horse’s saddle.
“She’ll need some water.”

“
Is that lunch I smell? I
better go change.”

Before she could turn and flee, Beau
caught her arm in his firm grip. Lydia snapped her head around,
eyes wide. He let her go and pointed to one of the buckets of water
he had drawn that morning.

“
Not before you water your
horse,” he said.

“
Me? I… yes, of course.”
She held her head high and marched over to the bucket. She bent and
picked it up with one hand, but let it clunk back down with a
slosh. Lips pursed, she picked it up with both hands and held it in
front of her, arms extended to their limit. Her lovely face
strained with the effort as she waddled to the horse. Water
splashed onto her blue velvet riding habit with each
step.

Finally, she reached the horse and set
the bucket in front of her. The filly drank greedily, while Lydia
looked down with disgust at her dress and dabbed at the invisible
water spots with her handkerchief.

“
Better,” Beau
said.

Lydia looked up with a sigh. “I
suppose you think I’m spoiled and lazy.”

“
You’ve never needed to
work like that. I can’t call someone lazy unless they refuse to
work when they need to.”

Her relieved smile brightened up the
dim barn. “I’m willing to get my hands dirty, if you’re willing to
teach me.”

She stepped up close to him, caught
his hand, and entwined her fingers with his. Head held back so she
could look him in the eyes, her voice took on a sultry tone. “Will
you teach me?”

Beau found it hard to swallow past the
sudden dryness in his throat. “That depends.”

“
I love it here, Beau. The
air is so fresh.” She closed her eyes and inhaled
deeply.

“
If you like the smell of
fresh manure, it is.”

Her eyes popped open while she giggled
and pressed herself against his chest, still holding his hand
hostage between them. “Oh, you know what I mean. Philadelphia was
nice, but I was so homesick there.”

“
At least you avoided all
the ugliness here. You probably had all kinds of things to do and a
number of suitors vying for your hand.”

She blasted him with that smiling,
head tilted to one side gesture, reminiscent of her late cousin.
With Claire, it usually meant she was about to ask him for
something, and with that look, she usually got what she
wanted.

“
You’re right,” Lydia
said. “There were many young men who called, but there were none
that I wanted.”

Beau shifted his feet, knowing what
was coming, but not sure how he felt about it. “Out of all those
men in the city, there must have been one fella or two you took a
shine to.”

Her eyelashes fluttered as she gave a
little shrug. “Don’t get me wrong. I could have chosen one and had
a good life there, but none of them fit my
expectations.”

“
What
expectations?”

She pressed her bosom against his
chest. He couldn’t help but look at the dark canyon of her cleavage
and the voluptuous hills beckoning to be explored. “Beau, I loved
my cousin dearly, but I envied her every day I saw her with you.
All I could think was that she had found her prince charming. And I
knew that I wanted what she had.”

Breathing became difficult; his throat
was so tight. He turned his head and coughed before looking back at
her. “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. I’m not half the saint you
thought I was. You were a child with a child’s dreams.”

“
I’m not a child now,” she
said, her voice more somber, more mature than he expected. “I
understand why my cousin loved you. You’re strong, kind, honest. I
know how much she wanted to give you more children.”

A heavy pain squeezed his chest. He
closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He and Claire dreamed of a
house full of little ones, but they’d only been blessed with Jonny,
whom they loved dearly of course, but…

Lydia unwound her fingers from his,
reached up, and cupped his face with both hands. “I’ve never met
anyone that compared to you. If you would have me, we could bring
this farm back to life, and I could give you the big family you
always wanted.”

Beau didn’t know how to respond. He
never imagined she would be so forward with him. On one hand, she
just declared her love for him and all but proposed marriage, and
on the other, he didn’t know if he could ever open his heart again
to allow such a thing.

Tiptoeing, she pressed her lips to his
— their soft warmth melted the last of his resolve. Excitement
buzzed through every nerve ending as he slid his hands around
Lydia’s waist, feeling the corset that hugged her sensuous figure.
She sighed and parted her lips further, deepening the kiss. Her
fingers swirled through the hair at the nape of his
neck.

She smelled like
gardenias. Like Claire. Memories flooded his mind of their last
night together. These sensations brought it all back.
Her
lips and
her
sighs and the
glorious feel of slipping inside her, moving together, completely
lost in each other’s arms.

Footsteps just outside pulled him back
into reality and away from Lydia, whose lips were still parted and
red from their kiss.

Portia stood there, frozen, eyes
shifting between him and Lydia. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… um…
intrude.”

As though her muscles suddenly thawed
from the shock of catching her employer in a passionate embrace,
she gathered her skirts in her fists, spun around, and high-tailed
it toward the house.

“
Po, wait!” Beau came to
his senses, extracted himself from Lydia’s arms, and ran after
her.

He finally caught up to her, but she
kept walking, head down and determined to escape. “No, it was a bad
time — I didn’t mean to intrude. I can speak with you
later.”

Beau grabbed her arm, and she stopped
but wouldn’t look at him. He let go, not knowing exactly why he was
chasing her or stopping her for that matter, except he felt the
need to reassure her that she didn’t have to be afraid of coming to
him for anything.

He spit out the only thing he could
think of. “It’s not intruding if you don’t know what you’ll find
when you get there, right?”

Portia finally met his gaze, a flicker
of expectation in her eyes. Beau felt like he ought to explain or
apologize or… something, but Lydia caught up with them.