Hope Reborn (18 page)

Such nonsense about a benevolent creator watching over the ones who chose to follow his son—well, a bunch of hog wash, that’s what it was.

Her Chester’s believing wasn’t so hard to swallow. He’d been indoctrinated when just a piccaninny. Show her a slave who wouldn’t want to think a better place existed out there somewhere, and she’d show you a corpse.

“Anyway, what was it? Two or three days later, right before I died, I got myself saved.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, what did you say? “ She had to pay closer attention and not let her mind wander off on tangents. “Did you say you died and went to heaven?”

“No, I said right before I died. I was about to, but let me back up. I need to tell you about the buyers leaving and Levi getting soaked and –”

“Hold it.” She threw up her hands still holding her quill. “Patrick Henry Buckmeyer, you are one fantastic storyteller. Plus, I love the sound of your voice, but you need to stay linear and stop jumping all over the place.”

“Don’t mean to make it difficult.”

“I must keep things straight. Now when you asked Sue to marry you out under the stars, what happened?” She hated asking, but wanted to know. “Did you kiss her?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Awe, Henry, how unromantic.” She pouted her bottom lip. “Go ahead then. Give me the details.”

“Beautiful night, the heat had broke some, and these folks, we thought they were Gypsies, but –”

“Why’d you think they were Gypsies?”

“The bells on their wagon.” He smiled and continued his telling. She didn’t much care for the recollections, but he kept his voice even like he’d relived that night so many times that it had lost its passion.

Would that ever happen to her?

Could she ever be so deeply in love that the night she said yes would fade into memory? She could only hope. And if it wasn’t with Henry, could she ever find another man who’d compare with him?

At forty-one, how much time did she have? Was she wasting what few days she might have left being here with him?

How big of a wedge would her unbelief be?

Footfalls stopped him, then CeCe filled the doorway. “Mammy says it’s time to wash up, and the Major and Miss Rose say they’ve got big news.

“Best hurry, Daddy, the line is getting long at the pump.”

Henry blessed the food himself then kept hold of May’s hand while he nodded toward Levi. “Major, I heard tell you and Rose have some news. Want to share now?”

“Yes, sir.” He smiled at his wife. “You tell them.”

The red-headed beauty beamed. “Well, it’s happy news because the Lord has blessed us. I guess I’ll just blurt it right out. We’re finally in a family way. Expecting a wee new Baylor. I thought I might be before we left for Llano, but now I know for sure. Come next spring, we’ll have us a baby!”

The girls all jumped to their feet and mobbed Rose, then once the commotion died and everyone returned to their places, Wallace stood and faced Henry.

“Excuse me, sir.” Then he looked to Levi. “Partner, don’t mean to steal your thunder or nothing, but we’ve got some news, too.” He extended his hand and Rebecca let him pull her to her feet.

“This beautiful lady who I’ve loved for almost ten years now—long before I ever even met her—has finally made me the happiest man on the face of the earth. She’s agreed to marry this old Ranger, so we’re getting hitched.”

Rebecca’s smile gleamed. She glanced toward May then her oldest sister. “I can’t believe it. I’m getting married!”

More commotion ensued, and all the little girls let loose squeals aplenty. Amidst the pandemonium, May squeezed his hand. He smiled at her. She returned the gesture with a slight grin, but her eyes held a deep sorrow. Bless the Lord.

Would it be his turn one fine day?

Soften her heart toward You, Father. Let her see the error of her ways and need for the Savior. Please confirm what’s in my heart. Don’t let me do anything to hurt my family.

That evening, after things settled down, he and May retreated to his study. Like it was someone else’s life, he told her how he and Sue finally got married at her daddy’s house in Memphis.

Twice during the telling, her eyes filled with tears, but she kept her emotions in check. After a bit of soft silence, she leaned back in his chair. He liked her sitting it.

She capped the ink well then set her quill down. “Did you notice Charley during his mother’s big announcement?”

“I did. He’ll get over it.”

“I’ve got a question. Why hasn’t his name been changed to Baylor? Mary Rachel said his mother and Nightengale weren’t really ever legally married, and that Levi’s been the only father the boy’s known.

“Yes, other than the Indian chief.” Henry blew out a lungful of air. “About a month after Levi rescued Rose, on their way here—he was bringing her home—they ran into this old man at a camp meeting along the way.

“The guy told Charley, four-years-old at the time.” He stopped himself. The words were written in his Bible, but he couldn’t remember them exactly. “Well, best get the Major to tell you that story.

“But Charley says if he’s going to get a new name, he has to earn it. That’s the Comanche in him.”

May didn’t exactly understand the logic in not changing Charley’s name, but if the boy wanted it that way, who was she to question it? “Who was Bart named after?”

“He’s got Levi’s middle name, Bartholomew, and he’s a Baylor.”

Of course, that probably made things worse. “Do you think you should talk to Charley about the baby?”

“No, ma’am.”

Why did he do that? Men could be so…so… “Why not?”

“Isn’t my place. I do plan on saying something to Levi.”

Oh. That made sense, but why did she have to drag it out of him? Men were so tight lipped. She scooted the chair back and stood. “Guess I best turn in.”

She was certain her feet heard the words that just came out of her mouth, but they didn’t move.

“How about a night cap? Out on the porch? Mammy makes a splendid hot toddy.”

“I’d love one.” As she took his arm and headed outside, she refrained from telling him that she really wanted to go the other direction—through the forbidden door with him.

But more than a night in his bed, she wanted it all, the whole of the man, his nights for sure, but his days as well.

The toddy warmed her insides like Henry’s presence warmed her soul. It was indeed splendid, but the hundreds of lightning bugs dancing on the moonbeams almost made Heaven come down to earth.

She remembered seeing a few as a child in Virginia, but Texas certainly must suit them.

Sitting there next to the man was by far the best. She glanced at her fingers intertwined with his. This is how she’d love to conclude every day for the rest of her life.

Too soon, it ended. And she made her feet carry her upstairs.

One more time, she slipped into an empty bed. She fluffed one of the pillows and hugged the other tight. Hopefully, one night, one fine day not too far into her future, it wouldn’t be a sack of feathers she cuddled.

The next morning after breakfast, she managed to get Rebecca alone long enough to hear her take on Henry and Sue falling in love, then a few minutes with the Major propelled her upstairs to Mary Rachel’s room—or May’s—because she had no intention of giving it back, not for a while anyway.

Before, and then after dinner, she soiled paper. Three false starts and six rewrites built a rather large pile of crumpled pages. That wasn’t unusual, getting a new novel off and running always proved to be hardest.

It had to be perfect. Finally, a bit before supper, she had a first page she could show Henry.

That notion pushed her back in her chair. Before, it had always been Chester she wanted to read her work, but she’d hardly seen him or even thought much about her brother.

She snickered, didn’t call him that or normally ever even think it. He was so concerned about her pure white cousins discovering the truth of her heritage and enslaving her and him.

She hugged herself. Henry had said he wouldn’t ever let anything or anyone hurt her again. She planned on seeing to it that he kept that promise. You’re just being a fool, Millie May.

He’ll rip you heart out and leave you lonelier than you’ve ever been. For much too long a time, she listened to that part of herself that had been wounded so long ago, but finally shook off the blackness.

She wasn’t twelve anymore, and Henry wasn’t the commodore.

What was wrong with her? She hadn’t called herself by that name in years. May Meriwether spoke to who she was—renowned author, strong, successful and in love for the first time in her life.

But how could that be true? She barely knew Henry Buckmeyer. What had it been? A week? Oh, good gracious. It had only been a week. That’s just ridiculous.

And he certainly didn’t know her. He couldn’t be in love with her. Just like all the others, the man only wanted a tumble—and he had plenty of hay. But if that were true...wouldn’t he have invited her on into his bedroom?

He had the opportunity.

Or perhaps invited her to share a dip in that enormous tub that day she was alone with him at the bathhouse.

He was only waiting for the right moment, then he’d –”

Stop it! They’d ship her to Bedlam if she kept that up. Henry wasn’t like that.

She stood, blew on the page, and waved it gently, way longer than necessary. Certain the ink wouldn’t smudge, she headed downstairs to his library. She knocked on the jam then peeked in the open door.

“Henry, you in here?”

Footfalls sounded. The forbidden portal opened. “Hey, you get that first chapter written?”

“No, but, well.” She held out the page. “What do you think? Is it a good start?”

He took the offering then slipped into his chair. She eased into the wingback then watched him read her words. His eyes danced over the page. His lips broke into a huge smile, and he looked up.

“Great start. You have a huge talent, May, but now I’m conflicted.”

“About what?”

“Two things. I want to read more, but I don’t like you hiding upstairs all day.” He laughed. “At least you came down to eat.”

She nodded. Her heart and stomach had demanded it, but she didn’t care for spending the day alone either. “Oh, you had me worried there for a minute. I’m glad that’s all it is, and believe me when I say, I’m in agreement.

“But when writing, I’ve been compared to a hibernating bear. I hole up and sling ink and can get rather grouchy if interrupted.”

He tapped his desk. “Write here. I promise not to bother you. Much.”

The man kept his word except that even with him silently walking through, he bothered her something terrible. Sitting in his chair, the forbidden portal right there for a glance anytime she wanted, touching his desk, it all troubled her in a wonderful sort of way.

Could that be what love was like?

She’d certainly heard about—even written about—love at first sight, but in her heart, she never believed it possible, always considered it a fairytale dream.

After only three days of the wonderful madness, she had it. It made Rebecca cry. Mary Rachel swore May had to have known her mother.

But she loved Henry’s reaction best. That crooked grin when he read the last page of the first chapter made it all worthwhile; all the scribbling, the crumpled pages, and searching for the exact right words.

He looked toward the hall then turned back with a broad smile, the one she loved the best.

“What?”

Before he could answer, Laura hurried through the door with a dress over each arm. In one hand, she carried ribbons and lace, and in the other, her sewing kit.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Mister Henry thought a new dress for church was in order, but I’ve only got time to finish one. We thought you should pick your favorite.”

“Oh, Henry! Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She took his arm and led him toward the door, then sent him away with a quick peck on his cheek and a whisper in his ear. “You spoil me something terrible. I love it.”

His expression was great, like for two dresses he should get more than a peck on his cheek. She gave him a little shove and the last look before she closed the door was even better, his eyes spoke a thousand words.

Wait, this is my library. What are you doing? But his mouth grinned that appealing, crooked little grin. He was too handsome.

“Get on now. I need to try on these dresses.” She resisted the urge to jerk it open and give him proper payment for his gifts.

“Fine.” Through the door, his tone held a nice mixture of irritation and mirth. “I need to heat bath water anyway. There’s a full-length mirror in my room. Feel free.”

Spinning in front of his mirror until almost dizzy, she picked the pale blue one with the floral bodice, tiny forget-me-nots if she remembered correctly.

Henry’s room wasn’t just a little bit bigger and nicer than Mary Rachel’s, it looked twice the size and was possibly the most impressive, manly room she’d ever walked into.

First thing, a massive stone fireplace standing strong on the north end set the mood. The ceiling had to be fifteen feet high and enormous rough hewn beams held it in place.

And the windows, she loved them, sunlight streamed in the open top halves while elegant heavy drapes hung over the lower half to the floor and offered complete privacy.

She imagined Henry built the beautiful four-poster bed himself. It screamed for her to come jump on it, and if Laura hadn’t been standing right there, she’d do exactly that.