A Time for Everything (39 page)

“
I…” Bewildered, Portia
didn’t really know how to respond. Too many emotions rattled
against one another like glassware in a crate with no padding in
between. Changing her mind now could cause it to shatter, and she
had to keep herself together.

“
It’s all right,” Lydia
said. “You don’t have to decide anything now. But there’s one more
thing I must tell you before you depart. Jonny didn’t destroy your
mother’s dress, nor did I. My mother did.”

“
Polly? But
why…”

“
For me. She thought you
wanted Beau for yourself and didn’t want me to be hurt.” Lydia
looked toward the foyer, where Beau had just admitted another
visitor. “She confessed it to me this morning. She felt dreadful
when we learned of your brother’s passing and couldn’t bear to face
you, though I begged her to come. But she was wrong for doing it,
no matter her intentions. I hope you will accept my apology on her
behalf.”

Portia wasn’t sure exactly how she
should feel about Lydia’s revelation but said what she thought was
appropriate. “She has my forgiveness.” For the first time, she saw
a kindred spirit in the woman who would marry the man she loved. “I
think, had times been different, we could have been
friends.”

“
Perhaps someday we will.”
Lydia smiled sadly and released her hand.

At the sound of wagon wheels crunching
on the drive outside, Portia stood. Her bags were packed. She just
had to retrieve them.

Isaac met her in the doorway. “I’ll
get them, Po.”

“
You can carry the chest
if you want. I’ll get my other things.”

“
All right.”

She hated to be responsible for
Isaac’s kind, happy face being filled with this much despair. He
followed her upstairs, and she could feel Beau’s eyes on her as she
went, but she didn’t look back. Once in her room, she took one last
look around. Picking up Jake’s picture, she held it against her
chest. Had he only come home like he promised, none of this would
have happened.

“
Are you all right, Po?”
Jonny asked from her doorway. He stepped aside as Isaac carried out
her chest. His eyes were wide and full of worry. “Can I get you
something?”

“
No, sweet boy, I’m fine,”
Portia said, trying to smile but finding it incredibly
difficult.

Jonny looked past her, his gaze
falling on the bags on her bed. “Po?” he asked, lifting his
frightened eyes to meet hers. “Are you… leaving?”

Portia hadn’t found the courage to
tell him. She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat.
“Yes.”

“
But not for good,
right?”

“
I’m afraid
so.”

“
Why?”

“
Because… your pa’s
getting married soon and they will want to find a better tutor for
you.”

He shook his head as tears rolled down
his freckled cheeks. “No! No one’s better than you.”

She tried to smile again
as she caressed his cheek.
Help me,
Lord.
“That’s very kind of you, Jonny, but
you’re so clever, I don’t think there’s anything more I can teach
you.”

“
What about Sallie Mae?
What about Lydia — she’ll send me to military school! Please, Po,
don’t go!” He rushed forward and hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry
about your brother, but please don’t go. Please.”

Wrapping her arms around him, she
rested her chin on his head as they both wept. “I have to, but
listen to me.” She pushed him back, holding him at arms’ length so
she could look him in the eye. “Your pa promised me he would never
send you away.”

Jonny bit his lip, trying to hold in
his tears.

“
You believe your pa,
don’t you?” she asked.

Finally, he nodded, but escaped from
her grip to hug her tightly again. “I believe him, but I’ll still
miss you. Can’t you stay, just for a few more days?”

Closing her eyes, she rested her head
on his and breathed in his little boy smell — like a clean wet dog
that had been rolling in fresh hay. She’d miss that and everything
else about him, but she couldn’t stay any longer. Losing Sam had
been bad enough, but she could never bear seeing Beau and Lydia
together as man and wife. She’d have to find a job somewhere and
lose herself in work so her heart would stand a chance of
mending.

“
I can’t, Jonny. I’m
sorry. I have to take my brother home.”

“
I know.” He stepped back
into the hallway, sniffling, but did his best to wear the stern
face of a grown man. “Will you write?”

“
Of course I
will.”

“
All right, then.” He
sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I’ll get your bags,
ma’am,” he said and marched bravely into the room.

~~~~

Beau, Pa, and
four men from town served as pallbearers and
carried Samuel’s casket feet first out the front door and into the
waiting hearse. Isaac loaded her trunk in the coach. Jonny came
down the porch steps carrying her bags. He struggled to haul their
weight, but his face wore the mask of a strong young man. Beau
started to help him, but stopped short. Jonny wanted to do his part
to help Portia, and he wouldn’t dare take that privilege from
him.

Sorrow washed over Beau in dizzying
waves. She was leaving them for good, and even though he’d known
this day would come, he didn’t want it, and he sure didn’t want it
to happen under these circumstances. Sam’s death and the uprooted
memories of Jake would remain an invisible barrier between him and
Portia, like the enormous chasm in the west he had heard
about.

Lydia clung to him as Portia said her
farewells. Pa gave her a tin of pipe tobacco to take back to Frank.
He hugged her tight and said, “I’ll miss ya, my girl.” Bessie
couldn’t stop crying and held her for a long time before letting
her go. Jonny took her hand and shook it, trying hard to be a
little man while his jaw trembled and tears clung to his eyelashes.
She bent down to his ear, whispered something, to which he nodded,
and kissed his cheek. She kissed Sallie Mae and handed her the book
of Psalms she had put together for her.

“
Thank you, Miss Po,”
Sallie Mae said. “I’ll keep it forever.”

Portia smiled and caressed her
cheek.

Then it was his turn, but his mouth
couldn’t form any words, not that he could say much with Lydia
there. All he could do was look at her, but he didn’t want to
remember her like that — dressed in black and grieving. It was his
fault her brother died. He should have never saved Harry. What was
done was done, and he couldn’t change the past.

Her voice sounded so flat, as though
all her emotion had soaked into the dry earth. “Thank you for the
opportunity to teach your son. I know he’ll be fine, won’t he?”
Beyond her veil, her eyes locked on his, seeking confirmation that
he would uphold his promise.

Fighting the lump in his throat, he
finally found his voice. “He’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry
about him.”

“
Good,” she said with a
nod.

She started to turn toward the coach
when he added, “I’m sorry. I never wanted…”

“
I know,” she said.
“Farewell, Mr. Stanford.”

Jonny ran to her and gave her one last
hug, as did Sallie Mae. Just before she stepped into the coach,
Lydia cleared her throat.

“
I pray you’ll have a safe
journey. Please write and let us know when you’ve arrived.” She
sounded more mature and sincere than she had ever been. Beau was
proud of her for once. Perhaps, as Portia said, they could
eventually be happy. Perhaps they
would
survive, but he couldn’t help
wanting so much more than that.

“
Thank you. I will.”
Portia offered a tired smile, and that was it.

She was gone.

They gathered
together
on a blustery Sunday afternoon at
Samuel’s grave. Portia had him buried close to Jake and Abby. She
didn’t want him lying next to their daddy, the man who, beyond
helping to bring them into this world, had only caused them
torment. Samuel’s twenty-two years had been nothing but strife. He
deserved some peace.

A few neighbors and friends had joined
them. Frank and Ellen stood next to Portia, grim and silent, as the
preacher read from the Bible. The wind took his voice and slapped
them with it.

“
There is a time for
everything… a time to be born and a time to die… a time to weep and
a time to laugh.”

When the service was over, Portia took
baby Jake from Ellen and bounced him gently on her shoulder. He did
indeed resemble his namesake, for which Portia was glad. She had
little left to remind her of the past now that the home she and
Jake and Abby had shared no longer existed. The land it had
occupied was scraped clean, and the frame of a new tobacco barn had
been raised in its stead. Beyond that, where her vegetable garden
and the cornfield had once been, lay neat rows of tender tobacco
shoots.

The builders had stopped working when
the small funeral procession arrived. They stood there by the barn
across the road in silence, with their hats off and heads lowered.
Portia would have to thank them for their show of respect and
invite them to Ellen’s house for the meal she had
prepared.

The preacher, undertaker, and the
guests dispersed, each heading to their own conveyances. Isaac left
too, having stayed overnight to attend the service with Portia. But
before he got in the coach, he took her hand and squeezed it
gently.

“
We’ll all miss ya,” he
said. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”

“
I’m sure. Thank you for
driving me home and for all your kindness.”

“
You ain’t never been no
trouble, Po. You take care now, you hear?”

“
I will, and same to
you.”

It was just a short walk, not even
half a mile, to Frank and Ellen’s house. Before they left the
cemetery, she kissed the tips of her fingers, and touched Jake’s
then Abby’s gravestones in turn. She would take flowers there
tomorrow. Ellen had the prettiest gladiolas by her front
porch.

“
I’m so sorry, Po,” Ellen
said through her tears.

“
Thank you. I’ve missed
you all.” Louise took her hand, and Portia smiled down at her sweet
chubby face. With baby Jake in one arm and little Louise trotting
alongside her down the dusty road, she remembered what it was like
to have a family. The pain in her chest repeated its old
refrain.
For you, it’s not meant to
be.

“
I know it’s not easy to
talk about, but where did this Mr. Franklin go?” Ellen asked. “Is
the law on his tail?”

“
Beau notified them, and
they’re on the lookout, but they suspect he’s miles away by now.
And that’s fine by me. I don’t want to ever lay eyes on Harry
Franklin again, or I just might kill him myself.”

“
I wish you’d stay at our
house instead of in town. I mean, it’s nice of the hotel giving you
free board because of your loss, but…”

“
I love you like a sister
and Frank like a brother, and I love these babies of yours, but I
don’t want anyone to feel the need to take care of me. I saw a
pamphlet from the Freedman’s Bureau at the hotel. They need
teachers in Kentucky and Indiana. I’ll make my way
north.”

What surprised her most
was the confidence she felt behind those words. Despite her losses,
she didn’t
want
to curl up and die. She wanted to live, to test her limits
and see what she could accomplish. Anywhere but there. Being
there
meant living under
grief’s unyielding shadow. Though it didn’t last, she had tasted
the light of happiness in Lebanon. She wanted more of
it.

Frank grunted his disapproval. “Po,
you’re the stubbornest dang woman I’ve ever met.”

She laughed a little. “Jake used to
say the exact same thing.”

~~~~

Beau’s pocket watch
ticked past one-thirty as he lay sleepless on his
bed. Silvery light from a crescent moon flickered through the
window. He heard his door open and turned his head.

“
Lydia? You shouldn’t be
out this late. Who drove you?”

“
No one. I rode here
myself. Let me comfort you.” She closed the door and walked to his
bedside then leaned close to his face. Her warm, mint-scented
breath caressed his cheek. She wore that filmy dressing gown that
showed enough of her silhouette to rouse him into
temptation.

“
No… not yet,” he
protested, but she straddled him, pressed herself against his bare
chest. Her kisses left a hot trail down his neck and collarbone,
and God he wanted what she offered, but he caught her wrists and
gently pushed her aside until she landed beside him on the
mattress. “I can’t. Not like this.”

“
You mean not until we’re
married.”

“
Yes.”

“
But even then, I’m afraid
your heart will always belong to someone else.”