Nan Ryan (51 page)

The glory was all gone. Their way of life would never be the same again. The loved ones were gone. Hunter. Her mother and father. Daniel. And now Hannah. All gone. Never to return. All but Dawson.

Kathleen thought about what Hannah had told her. She shook her head as tears escaped her sad eyes. Dear, dear Dawson. He had never told her what her father had said. He’d gone away because he loved her. How could her father have done such a cruel thing? Kathleen shook her head again. He never meant to hurt her. He loved her, he thought he was doing the right thing. I can’t hate you, Father, you made a mistake, but we all do that. Look what I did to Hunter all those years. I’ve injured people, too. I’m still doing it. Dawson still loves me.

“Dawson,” she said aloud, “oh, Dawson,” and she rose from her chair. She took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “No more tears. There have been too many for all of us.”

Kathleen went up the stairs, took off her black dress, and threw it across the bed. She filled a tub with hot soapy water and stepped into it. Closing her eyes, she luxuriated in the healing warmth as she slid further down under the suds. She scrubbed her body until the skin was glowing. Smiling, she stepped from the tub and dried off. She rushed to the closet and took out her best dress. For the first time in her life, she had to button it herself and she smiled as she fumbled with the tiny buttons. Dressed at last, she skipped down the stairs and out of the house. Williard gladly brought the one-horse carriage around and said, “I drives you, Miz Kathleen, I be happy to.”

Kathleen smiled sweetly, “Thank you, Williard, I can do it,” and she stepped into the carriage and waved goodbye.

Thirty-seven

Dawson Blakely sat in the library of his big home high on the bluffs of Natchez, his long legs resting on a footstool in front of his chair. A glass of brandy sat on the table beside him, a long brown cigar was turning cold in the ashtray. A book lay across his lap, his dark head lay back in the chair, his eyes were closed. The sun was setting and Dawson could no longer see the small print on the pages of his book, but he was reluctant to put a light on in the room. He was drowsy and lazily sat in the big chair, considering whether or not he had enough energy to go out for dinner. Deciding he didn’t, he smiled to himself, thinking, “I must be getting old,” and promptly dozed off.

When Kathleen knocked on the big front door, she was met by a smiling Jim, Dawson’s most trusted and oldest servant. “Why, Miz Kathleen,” he bowed to her, “come in, come in. Mistah Dawson be mighty surprised to see you here, but mighty glad, I suspect.”

“Thank you, Jim. He’s home then?”

“Oh yes, ma’am, he be in the library. I get him for you.”

“No, Jim, don’t bother. I’ll go to him.”

“That fine, Miz Kathleen. Can I get you some coffee or sompin to drink?”

“Nothing, Jim, thanks,” and she turned and walked toward the door. It was open and she walked inside. The last rays of the setting sun filled the room with an eerie glow. She saw Dawson stretched out in his big chair and he didn’t move when she came in. She opened her mouth to call to him, but decided against it. She walked softly to him and sat down on the footstool where his stockinged feet were crossed one over the other. She looked at the handsome dark face, its eyes closed in sleep. He looked so peaceful she almost hated to wake him. She smiled and slowly lifted a hand to his face, “Dawson,” she whispered softly.

Thick black lashes opened lazily over the dark eyes. He looked at her and a smile came to the full mouth. His hand went up to cover hers and he said slowly, “Have I died and gone to heaven, or are you really here?”

She laughed and said, “It’s me, Dawson.” He started up and Kathleen stopped him, “No, stay where you are, please. You look so comfortable, I started not to waken you.”

He lay back in his chair, raised her band, and kissed it. “I would never have forgiven you if you hadn’t. Can I get you something, dear? Is anything wrong?” he yawned sleepily. “Sorry. You know I can’t think of a nicer way to be awakened. Now, just name the task and I will do it.”

“How about this? You can be quiet and let me talk, Dawson.”

“Sorry, darling, I’m just so glad to see you. I …”

“Shhh,” she put her hand over his mouth, “I’m serious, Dawson, I’ve something to say and I want you to listen. Now, I’ll move my hand if you promise to remain silent. Will you?” He nodded his head and she put her hand in her lap. “Good. Where shall I begin? Dawson, right before Hannah died, God rest her soul, she told me some things. Things I had never known before. She told me about the talk Father had with you when you came to Sans Souci to ask for permission to marry me.”

Kathleen studied his face and saw the surprise and shock in his eyes. He moved his feet to the floor and leaned up in his chair, but he didn’t speak. “You see, Hannah was supposed to go into Natchez that day with Mother and me, but she got sick. She stayed home and she was there when you came. She heard your loud voices and came downstairs. She was outside the library, Dawson, and she heard everything that was said, but she never told me about it until now. I couldn’t believe it when she did. You see, when you left I was convinced it was because you didn’t love me, that you were tired of me.”

“Oh, Kathleen, I …”

“Please, Dawson, let me finish. You left without telling me and I was certain you didn’t love me, that you never came to the house that day. Dawson, I’m sorry for what my father did to you … to us. I know now you loved me as much as I loved you and you were hurt terribly by his actions. I loved my father very much, you know that, and I can forgive him because he must have thought he was protecting me, though we both know it was cruel and a tragic mistake. I want you to know, Dawson, that I don’t care at all that your middle name is Harpe or that you spent the first twenty years of your life under the bluffs. I didn’t care then and I don’t care now. I also want you to know that the Harpe and Blakely blood that run through Scott’s veins is just as noble to me as the Howard and Beauregard blood. He’s a wonderful boy, Dawson, he’s very much like you and I couldn’t be happier that he was fathered by a man as handsome, intelligent, and decent as you. Now, I’ve said most of what I wanted to say, and I have just one question. Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you leave so abruptly? Why didn’t you take me with you?” She fell silent and looked at him.

His tense, dark face softened and he grinned, “Darling, that’s more than one question.”

“Dawson Blakely, will you please be serious?” she said, but she was smiling.

“I couldn’t tell you, you know that. It’s that simple. He had me, Kathleen. I was left with no way out. Your father was a very clever man. Darling, you’re forgetting, this didn’t happen last week, it happened over ten years ago. You were a sixteen-year-old girl who adored and trusted her father. Would you have believed me if I had told you he was a liar? If killed him in a duel, would you have still wanted to be my wife? No, Kathleen, admit it. There was nothing I could do. wanted so desperately to tell you when you came to the
Dixa Mine
and I made love to you. Have you any idea how such it hurt me to let you go away thinking I was an uncaring cad? It broke my heart, darling, just as it did ours.” He shook his head, remembering.

“No, you’re right,” she said. “My poor Dawson,” she touched his face again.

“Now you know,” he said softly, “But, that isn’t all, is it? You said a minute ago that was most of what you wanted to say. What’s the rest?”

Kathleen smiled, “The rest is more pleasant, I hope. Do out still want me? Will you marry me?”

“My God, Kathleen, I’ve never stopped wanting you! I’ve ached to marry you since the first minute I saw you riding by in your father’s carriage.”

“Well, Dawson, I’m not going to lie to you. I fell in love with Hunter, I’ve told you that. But he’s gone and we do have a son together. I’m not sure I can ever feel about you again the way I did when I was a young girl. Too much has happened, but if you want me, I’ll marry you now.”

“Sweetheart,” he smiled back at her, “if you’ll marry me, you don’t even have to love me. Just let me love you.” His smile changed to an impish grin, “Besides, my dear girl, I may be turning gray at the temples, but there’s still some life left in me. Eight to five says I can have you wildly in love with me again in just a few weeks.”

“Dawson, you’re conceited,” she laughed, then touched is sideburns. “I love the gray in your hair. If anything, you’re even more handsome now than the first night I saw you at Sans Souci.”

“Thanks,” he rose and helped her to her feet, “now, precious girl, if you’ll just accompany me up the stairs, I will get started on my campaign to make you mad about me again.”

“Oh, Dawson,” she giggled, “you’re awful.”

“I know,” he winked at her, “and you like it, don’t you?

Together they slowly climbed the stairs, their arms around each other, as the long May day came to a close and the sun was completely gone. “You know,” he said, his lips against her hair, “for once we don’t have to hurry, we can just go about it in a relaxed, lazy way, unlike the desperate encounters we experienced in the past. We can take all the time was want. I’m going to pleasantly drive you crazy, my love, be fore I …”

“You’re forgetting, Dawson, we have a nine-year-old so and he’ll be arriving home at nine o’clock.”

“I did forget,” he pulled her closer, “in that case, run up those stairs, girl!”

“Dawson!”

“I’m joking,” he smiled and they slowly proceeded up to his bedroom.

“This is still the loveliest room I’ve ever seen in my life,” Kathleen said as she stood at the tall, open windows lookin down at the lights of Natchez Under and the boats on the Mississippi River. “It looks exactly as it did when we were here so long ago, you haven’t changed a thing.”

“I haven’t been in this room myself since that night,” Dawson came to stand behind her.

She turned to face him, “You haven’t been in your own bedroom? Why not, where …”

“When I brought you here that night to show you the house, you made it seem like our room. After I lost you, couldn’t bear the thought of being in it without you. I told Jim to have it cleaned every day, but never to change any thing about it. Maybe I kept hoping this day would finally come.”

Kathleen smiled and reached up to finger the came around his neck, “Dawson, you’re as sentimental as I am … hopeless romantic.”

“Did you ever doubt it? I plead guilty as charged,” he laughed, kissed her cheek, and walked away from her. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his feet apart. “Come here,” he said, grinning.

Kathleen walked to him. He put his hands to her waist and pulled her close, his knees tightened on her legs, holding her in a viselike grip. “Dawson Blakely,” she chided, “you’re hurting me. You don’t have to pin me with your legs. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” he grinned, moving his knees apart, “I’m so used to you running away from me, it’s going to take me a while to get used to the idea that you won’t leave.”

“I know, darling, but I promise, you won’t lose me again.” She bent and kissed him, then ruffled his thick dark hair playfully.

“Since that’s all settled, I’m afraid I must scold you, my dear.”

“Whatever for?” her eyes widened.

“It’s about that dress, love.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth.

Kathleen looked down at herself and asked haughtily, “What is wrong with it? It’s the best one I have, Dawson Blakely.”

“It’s lovely, darling, the color suits you, but … do you see where my eyes are looking?”

“Yes, they’re … Dawson!”

“Exactly! The neck is too low, there’s too much naked skin showing. Have you forgotten that I spoke to you about that?”

“My Lord, you haven’t changed a bit, have you?” she laughed.

“Not where you’re concerned, my pet.”

“Well, just relax, Mister Blakely. You said I could wear this kind of dress with you. I don’t see anyone else in here, do you?” She looked around her.

“Did you see anyone on the way over?” he teased.

“Dawson, I don’t have as many dresses as I once did. I can’t afford to throw things away anymore, I …”

“Yes, you can. You’re forgetting, my love, that I’ve plenty of money and I’m just dying to spend it on you. You can throw away every dress you own, and if you want, you can have hundreds of new ones. I can’t wait to buy you everything you want.”

“That’s fine, my generous love, but for now, may I leave this dress on?”

“No,” Dawson, smiled impishly, “you can’t.”

“Why not?” She put her hands on her hips.

“Because, even though it shows too much of you for anyone else to see, it covers too much for me. Take if off, darling.”

Kathleen smiled and whispered, “Dawson, you know how spoiled I am, I’m not used to undressing myself. Can you help me?”

He threw back his head and laughed, “My darling, you’ll never have to unbutton another dress as long as I’m around,” and his brown hands went to the top of her dress. She watched him, smiling, as he hurriedly pushed it off her shoulders and the laughter left his handsome face as love and desire flooded over him and the dark eyes smouldered.

Dawson lay propped up on a pillow, holding Kathleen back against him. He lazily smoked a cigar, blowing out in slow, deliberate breaths. Completely happy and content, he could remember no other time in his life that had been quite so wonderful. The tortured urgency of their other times together had been replaced by the safe, secure pleasure of knowing he could have her again and again, that she’d be his tomorrow, and the next day, and forever. They’d made love as they never had before, both relaxed and a little lazy, and it was glorious. Dawson Blakely was a happy, fulfilled man.

With the golden head of his love leaning back on him, resting just under his chin, his long arm draped casually around her, he had found paradise at last. Dawson kissed her hair and spoke, “Have you fallen in love with me yet?”

Kathleen grinned and turned to look up at him, “Not quite, but I’m on the way.”

He laughed, “And you accuse me of being sentimental.”

“I know, I’m worse than you.”