Destiny's Daughter (33 page)

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The parlor seemed to vibrate with tension. Several of the men had mentioned to Annalisa or Hattie Lee how sorry they were to have heard about the nighttime attack on the women. Several other men avoided Hattie Lee’s eyes, and Annalisa had the uncomfortable feeling that they agreed with the terrorists’ sentiments. How many of these men could she really count on? she wondered. If the attackers returned, would the men of this town come to her aid? Or would they choose instead to look the other way? Were some of these very men the ones who had hidden behind those hoods?

While the men engaged in their poker game, they spoke in low tones about the number of bank loans that had suddenly been called in. Families, from lowly farmers to once-wealthy plantation owners, were being forced to sell to anyone willing to make an offer on their land. Troubled, Annalisa paid little attention to the muttered conversations around the table.

"There seem to be more bank foreclosures lately, Willis," Chase said nonchalantly.

The banker rearranged his cards and barely glanced up at him. "Business isn’t good. We need working capital."

"But just what are you working at? Driving every landowner out of Louisiana?"

Refusing to answer, Willis shot a pleading look toward Lafourcade. The mayor-elect shrugged, and chose to reply for the banker. "When I assume office, I intend to run this city efficiently, even if it means stepping on a few toes."

"A few toes are one thing. A man’s land, earned by generations of hard work, is quite another."

Annalisa gave Chase an admiring glance as he spoke with quiet authority.

"The bank cannot carry those people indefinitely," Willis said.

"Nor can the city of New Orleans." Lafourcade shoved a pile of chips to the center of the table. "I’ll see your bet and raise it."

Biting down on his cigar, Chase matched the bet. He showed absolutely no expression as Lafourcade won the hand.

"By the way," Willis said, watching the dealer shuffle for the next hand, "I believe I’ve found a buyer for the Beaumont plantation."

As Annalisa bent to light a player’s cigar, she had all she could do to continue holding the taper steady. Had the slight trembling of her hand given away her feelings?

The widow Beaumont, a woman of nearly seventy years of age, had begun taking in the young orphans of New Orleans who had no place to go. With the aid of the Sisters of Charity, she went about the city begging food and clothing for the children in her care. She had earned a special place in Annalisa’s heart, and Annalisa prayed that Chase would be able to get the information to Nate on time.

As the night wore on, the little clusters of men who gathered to talk of business, of farming, of politics, gradually broke up and drifted home. The poker game ended, and maids scurried about fetching wraps and cleaning tables.

When the others had gone, Chase caught Annalisa’s arm. Instantly she felt the heat that only his touch could ignite.

"I’ll have to be gone for a few hours."

"Gone? At this time of night?"

When he said nothing, she glanced at his grim features. A sudden smile lit her eyes. "Of course. The news about old Mrs. Beaumont."

As he arched an eyebrow, she felt a rush of relief that he had at least remembered his pledge to act as a messenger to the Archangel of Mercy. She released a sigh. "I understand. You’ll have to ride to Nate’s to give him the news about the foreclosure on the Beaumont plantation."

"It shouldn’t take too long. Will you wait up for me?"

She hated this weakness in her that made her bend to him. If she were tougher, stronger-willed, she would pretend a reluctance. A clever woman would bargain for her favors. Yes, Chase, a manipulative woman would say. I’ll wait up for you, provided you change your ways. Give up your whiskey-drinking, card-playing foolishness. Become more like Nate Blackwell. Devote your time to the less fortunate. Use your talents for good in this world. Then our love will be perfect.

Chase watched her eyes, wondering what she was thinking. For a moment, she didn’t even seem aware that he was still touching her. Leaning closer, he caught her chin between his thumb and lingers and studied her closely.

"I’m sorry, Annalisa. You must be tired." He thought about their long night and day of loving and his tone grew tender. "Go to bed. I won’t disturb you when I return."

She touched a hand to his cheek and felt the sudden sexual pull. "I won’t be able to fall asleep until you’re here with me. I think I’ve grown accustomed to your arms around me."

Heat blazed in his eyes. "I’ll hurry, love."

When he was gone, she carried the night’s receipts to her office. The bed in the corner had been removed, and all of Chase’s belongings had been taken up to her room.

Making notes in her ledger, she found herself distracted with conflicting thoughts of Chase. She loved him. She truly did. But she admired Nate Blackwell. How could this be?

She looked up when Hattie Lee entered.

"If you don’t need me, child, I’ll go on up to bed."

"Hattie Lee." Dropping her pen, Annalisa lowered her voice. "Could I talk to you a minute?"

Hattie Lee closed the door and crossed the room. Seeing the distress in her young friend’s eyes, she waited patiently.

Annalisa licked her lips, wondering how to begin. "What would you do if you found yourself falling in love with the wrong man?"

The black woman studied her for long minutes. "Most of us do, child."

"I don’t understand. What does that mean?"

"I mean, we should all fall in love with perfect men. Men who are wealthy, healthy, whose ancestors lived to ripe old ages with no defects. Our men should be noble, and sensitive, and willing to lay down their lives for us. And they should be witty and charming and know just the right thing to say at the end of each day so we can fall asleep with a smile on our lips."

The older woman gave a knowing smile, then said dryly, "Unfortunately, we can’t fall in love with gods. We fall in love with mortal men. And worse yet, they fall in love with real women, with faults even worse than their own." She sighed deeply. "I suppose it’s no more than those poor fools deserve."

Annalisa found herself grinning. "Is that what happened to you, Hattie Lee? Did you find yourself in love with a mere man?"

The black woman slowly settled herself into the chair opposite Annalisa’s desk. Lacing her fingers across her stomach, she said, "My Jessie was a man, all right. A real man. With every fault known to man. And my sweet Lord almighty, how I loved him."

Jessie. Annalisa felt her smile growing. It was the first time she had ever heard Hattie Lee speak his name.

"What was your Jessie like?"

Hattie Lee’s voice took on a dreamy tone. "He was as tall as a giant. So strong, he could pick up a man and throw him across the room without even straining. But when he touched me, he was so gentle I swear he thought he was handling a little China doll." Her eyes softened. "His voice was so rich and deep, he sent little shivers through me whenever he spoke my name. And that man could take me higher with a single kiss than a bird in flight."

Her voice died as she realized how much she had revealed.

Standing, Annalisa circled the desk and placed her hand on the black woman’s shoulder. "What happened to your Jessie?"

Hattie Lee turned her head slightly to look up at the young woman. "He left me to make a better life for himself. You might say he gave up on me." She sighed, a long sigh that seemed to well up from somewhere deep inside her. "Or maybe I gave up on him. I don’t know anymore. I just know I found out that it was possible to cut out my heart and still go on living." She stood wearily and gathered Annalisa close. "As long as you love someone, child, love him without question. The kind of love you and Chase have found doesn’t come along every day. I know. It’s the same way I felt about my Jessie. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing. Hold on to it. And don’t muddy it with complications." Her voice nearly broke. "They’ll come along soon enough."

When Hattie Lee left the office, Annalisa put away her ledgers, then blew out the candles and climbed the stairs to her room. Slowly undressing, she let down her hair, then knelt by the window and studied the landscape made golden by the light of the moon. She was no longer weary. The thought of the night of loving that lay ahead of her was enough to send her pulse quickening, her mind racing. No longer would she dwell on Chase’s faults. She had too many of her own, she thought, grateful for Hattie Lee’s wisdom. Most important of all, she was no longer afraid of loving Chase. No matter who he was, or what he was, he was her man. She rested her chin on her arms and watched the path of a shooting star, whispering aloud the wish that sprang to her lips. "Keep him safe. Bring him home."

For better or worse, she was his woman.

The barn was taking shape. After the rubble had been removed, a skeleton of boards and rafters was hammered into place. The women of the house awoke each morning to the sound of workmen pounding nails, shouting orders.

Annalisa bought a smaller, less elegant carriage to replace the one that had been destroyed. She refused to admit to Hattie Lee and the others that she had given her savings to the widow Beaumont, to be used for the orphans. And she had no intention of dipping into the profits earned by the women of this house. That money was theirs, to be used by them as needed. So she insisted that they really didn’t need a splendid carriage. A simpler one would do nicely.

Under Eulalie’s loving ministrations, Luther was mending. Although Dr. Lynch still dropped by each day to examine his wounds, Annalisa suspected die good doctor was using Luther’s injuries as an excuse to spend a little more time with Gabrielle. The beautiful Creole woman managed to be in the hallway each day just as the doctor finished his examination. With a smile, or even a look, she would persuade him to stay for lunch, or to share a lemonade and some quiet conversation.

It was an ominously bleak morning. The sky was dull gray. The slight breeze off the river tasted of rain.

As Annalisa hurried into the bank, one of the employees looked up.

"Is Mr. Willis here?" Annalisa placed an envelope on the desk.

"I’m sorry. Mr. Willis went home."

"In the middle of the morning? Is he ill?" Annalisa noticed that the young man who was employed here didn’t seem too concerned about his employer.

"Haven’t you heard? Old Mrs. Beaumont had a visit from a night rider, who left her an envelope with the exact amount needed to pay her taxes." The young man looked around before adding, "L’Archange de Miséricorde strikes again. Isn’t it exciting? Needless to say," he added dryly, "Mr. Willis isn’t taking the news very well. He threw a terrible tantrum. Said it was the last time he’d be outmaneuvered by the Archangel. He said he was taking to his bed for the day. But if you ask me, I think he went to meet privately with Monsieur Lafourcade."

Annalisa hoped she didn’t look as pleased as the young man did. In her most sincere tone, she said, "I do hope your employer feels better tomorrow. I’m certain our mayor-elect will find the right things to say to cheer him up."

When the young man had counted out her money and had written a receipt, she left the bank with a light heart. Once again, the greedy men of this town had been outsmarted. Checking the list Hattie Lee had given her, Annalisa drove her carriage to the French market.

While Annalisa hurried through her chores in town, she kept an eye on the changing sky. Already the color had deepened to gun metal. The breeze picked up, tossing her skirts, ruffling her hair. Hurrying to her carriage, she flicked the reins, eager to arrive home before the angry clouds overhead erupted into a boiling mass of storms.

Pulling into the yard, she caught a glimpse of Hattie Lee and the maids frantically hauling flapping sheets from the clothesline. There was no time to help them. With an efficiency of movement she unloaded the supplies from the carriage onto the wide back porch, then drove to the unfinished barn. Though there were still wide spaces between the upright boards, the roof would offer the horse and vehicle some protection from the rain.

Since Luther’s accident, Annalisa had become adept at hitching the horse to the carriage. Now, quickly unharnessing the animal, she led him to a half-finished stall and latched the gate behind him. Outside, the sky had grown as black as night. A jagged slash of lightning ripped through the heavens, followed almost instantly by a rumble of thunder.

Annalisa gathered her skirts, poised to bolt across the open space of the back yard, when a second bolt of lightning streaked, illuminating everything for the space of a heartbeat. Annalisa froze. Under the trees was a figure of a man walking toward Hattie Lee. As the black woman struggled with the last sheet, she was too intent on her work to notice the figure.

"Hattie Lee." Annalisa shouted her name and felt a wave of helplessness as the words were flung away on the wind.

Silhouetted against the black sky, Annalisa saw the maid lift the basket of clothes and start toward the house. Hattie Lee, still unaware of the man who stalked her, took the time to return the clothespins to her pocket without looking up.

Annalisa began to run. Wind tore at her skirts, whipping them about her ankles. Her hair, pried loose from the knot at her nape, lifted and dipped, flailing her cheeks. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm in time to her footsteps. While she ran, she watched Hattie Lee suddenly glance toward the approaching figure.

Another wild burst of lightning cast the two figures in bright relief against the blackened sky. The man was a giant, the tallest man Annalisa had ever seen. Pausing a few steps from Hattie Lee, he waited and watched as she brought a hand to her mouth. Then while Annalisa watched in disbelief, Hattie Lee ran to him and flung herself into his arms.

Drawing nearer, Annalisa heard the black woman’s tear-choked voice. "Jessie. Oh sweet Lord almighty. It’s you, Jessie."

The skies opened, emitting a torrent of rain. Still the man and woman clung to each other, unmindful of the drenching storm. The turbulence unleashed by their coming together was more powerful than any of nature’s elements.

Dazed, Annalisa turned and ran toward the porch. Once there, she shook out her soaking skirts and stole another furtive glance at the figures in the yard. He was walking slowly toward the house, carrying the tall woman as effortlessly as if she weighed no more than a feather. Oblivious to the rain, her arms encircled his neck, while she buried her face against his shoulder. The sounds that drifted on the wind could have been sobs or laughter.