Reborn (21 page)

“You!”

“Who? What do you see?”

She turned the cart faster than I would have thought she could move and headed back the way she came.

“Tell me!” I demanded as she hurried away. “What did you see?”

“I see nottin’,” she called back without turning.

As I returned to Desiree, fear and anguish settled in my chest. And although only a few steps away, I hurried, reaching the tree in a matter of second.

The emptiness of our private, little area pushed the fear deeper, cutting and twisting, until a burning ache erupted in my stomach.

“Desiree!”

A sheen of sweat broke over my skin. Why did I leave her? Why did I even agree to come here? I knew she was better off without me, and I put her in danger anyway.

“Des—”

Two hands covered my eyes, plunging me into darkness. In the same instant, a soft giggle floated into my ear and straight down into my heart. I grabbed the hands and turned. The moment I saw her looking the same as she had when I left her, my knees weakened as relief pulsed through me.

“What is it? You look like you saw a ghost.”

“The old woman…”

It was then Desiree settled her gaze upon the flower, barely secured between my weak fingers. And a smile lit up her face.

“I see you met Tilley.”

“Ti…”

“The flower lady. She’s been selling flowers in the squares for as long as I can remember.”

The fragrance from the rose filled my senses as I took in a couple deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves.

“Is that for me?” Desiree asked, peering intermittently from me to the flower.

Resisting her charm took more will than I could gather. I lifted the rose and touched the tip of her nose with its petals. “Yes, you silly girl. This is for you.”

The delight she exuded as she took the thornless stem in her delicate hand warmed the sudden chill inside me.

Although the moment seemed fine, I didn’t want to be here anymore. “Why don’t you show me around some more? Pick out your favorite place to eat.”

“That’s easy. The Mellow Mushroom. It’s just down the street. Do you like pizza?”

“Do you?”

“Love it.”

“Me, too. Let’s go.”

I had no idea what manner of food
pizza
was. So when we got to the restaurant, I let Desiree pick from the menu. When the waitress placed a hearty disk, smelling deliciously of foods and spices I knew nothing of, on the table, I waited until she served herself, then I copied.

After our late lunch, we strolled through the streets of Savannah, visiting some of the other squares. Desiree apologized for the history lesson that came with every tour. But I didn’t mind. Some places even seemed oddly familiar to me.

Dusk brought us to the place where she’d parked her car. She seemed hesitant to leave, leaning against the driver’s side door, wearing a rather glum half-smile. I stood on the sidewalk wishing I could keep her, missing her already.

“Why don’t you come back to my apartment, and I’ll make us coffee, then I can take a look at your injuries?”

Although the cuts and bruises were fine, relief overwhelmed me. She didn’t want the night to end yet, any more than I did. So we drove to her place, where she kept her promise and made us coffee. I explored the balcony, taking in the view of this part of the city when she joined me, holding two mugs of the steaming, aromatic liquid.

“You make it just the way I like it,” I said truthfully after the first sip.

We sat on the floor of the balcony, our backs against the brick façade, sipping the beverage I’d grown accustomed to. A set of twinkle lights, wound around the railing, cast a romantic ambiance over the little area. Between sips, we talked, and laughed, and got to know each other better.

There wasn’t an ounce of shyness in Desiree as she spoke about her life growing up in the city or her school studies. She checked my wounds, planting a soft kiss on the one on my forehead. In the next motion, we were in each other’s arm, our lips connecting like magnets. She worked her way onto my lap, my back pressed to the wall. A low moan escaped her when our tongues entwined. With another moan, she tilted back her head—probably needing to breathe, as I did. In my next breath, I was kissing her neck, stretched out in front of me. She didn’t protest when I dropped a hand to her thigh.

Somewhere in the back of my head, I knew I moved too fast, that I should stop—save the next step for the next date. Hopefully there would be another. But how could I push her away now? My body was on fire inside and out, and her flesh burned just as hot.

So when Desiree jerked her body away from mine, and space formed between us, sending an inkling of coolness across my heated skin, I immediately assumed the worst. When she gasped and jumped to her feet, I knew the feeling was justified.

My heart beat at an explosive speed. “What’s wrong?” I said, jumping after her, looking from her to the wall she stared at. Apart from the reflection of the twinkle lights, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

Desiree frowned, then let out an airy laugh. “I guess it was a bug.”

The scare deflated out of me with a long, expelled breath. “Just a bug? Are you sure?”

She glanced at me briefly, nodding, as something else seemed to have her attention. “Uh huh. Just a bug.”

I didn’t like the new tone in her voice. Rushed, and an octave higher than normal. But I didn’t press the matter.

“Um, Solomon? It’s getting kinda late.”

I had my suspicions about what it was she saw, and if I was correct, her guardians intervened at the right time. I couldn’t fault them for having Desiree’s best interest at heart.

“You’re right. I should go.”

When I turned to leave, she grabbed my wrist. I faced her.

“I want you to know that I loved today, and if you want, I’d love to do it again sometime. I can show you more of Savannah, like the famous Bonaventure Cemetery, or the beach.”

“I’d pick a beach with you any day over a cemetery.”

Our laughter lightened the sudden pall that had befallen us. Our good night kiss was a short peck, while Desiree peered over my shoulder.

As I walked below the balcony heading to the bus stop, her voice carried down to me.

“This is my life, and my choices,” she shouted, almost crying.

I stopped to listen, in case she was in some kind of trouble.

“He’s not who you say he is. I know it in my heart. So go. Leave me the hell alone!”

My suspicions were confirmed.

In one way, it saddened me to know that Melba’s trio of spirits were now involved in my relationship with Desiree and protected her against me. In another, I was grateful.

The city gave off the right amount of darkness for my sudden bad mood. I decided to walk for a while and forgo the brightness of the inside of the bus and the possible conversations and glares that could find me there.

ightfall didn’t deter Savannahians from enjoying the outside. I discovered many people out walking, waiting for buses, and gathered in groups. The constant chirp of crickets kept me company, also, creating a steady hum amongst the city noises. Before I knew it, I had made it back to the historical district where Desiree and I had begun our date. Without her as a pleasant distraction, I really took notice of the Victorian homes that lined the streets here. Well kept, with sprawling outside staircases leading to ornate front doors, and wrought iron scrollwork railings, the homes looked vaguely familiar. The more I studied their detail, the more they transformed back to their original state.

The next step I took led me into a past era. Horses harnessed to small buggies and elaborate carriages lined a dirt street where motorized vehicles had just been. Ladies wearing grand gowns, dripping with lace and jewels, capes or shawls covering their upper arms to keep off the night chill, conversed with gentlemen looking dapper in tails and top hats. I walked alone, under the oaks—not yet old enough to create a complete canopy of branches overhead. The young trees invited light from the half-moon and stars to shine down over the budding city. Oil lanterns hanging from carriages held flickering flames, casting glows over the faces of the wealthy as they made merry in the streets at this late hour. I paused under the illumination of an oil lamp that hung from a pole on a street corner, to check the time on my pocket watch. A slight intoxication blurred my vision as I focused on the solid gold numbers. Nearly 1:00 a.m. But the air was fresh, and I felt invigorated, having just made a land deal, and snagging a bonus romp in the bunk with the finely endowed Miss Lillian Whitefield, heir to the Whitefield Estate. The Brandt name would one day be untouchable. Soon, I would own all of Savannah. I tipped my hat to Mr. Salter and Mr. Miller as I passed by them to get to my carriage. My driver wasn’t there at first, but soon came along. There would be no whipping tonight, though; I was in a rare good mood.

The clip-clopping of horse’s hooves on pavement brought me back to present day. The new memory from the past now lived in my head. I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt-clad body, and heaved a sigh of relief. The clip-clopping grew louder, as a horse came into view. Its chestnut coat gleamed under the streetlights as it pulled a small buggy carrying the driver, who spewed out the park’s history to two passengers. My heart gave a little flip as I watched the proud animal trot by.

I decided to visit Excalibur. Maybe tomorrow, if I could get a ride. I knew the bus wouldn’t take me as far as Melba’s. But it would take me almost to the estate. I could walk from there.

As I made my way through the city, my thoughts wandered back to the vision. It had felt so real, in an unsettling way. Besides the confidence and power that had coursed through my body and exuded from my pores, I had felt the intoxication of the brandy weighing on my mind, as well as its lingering essence on my palate. But there had been another feeling, smoldering warmth deep down in my loins—satisfaction, and I had reveled in it.

I tried putting the robust memory away as I came upon the south side of Chippewa Square. It was then I realized the streets were deserted. In fact, the desertion had happened so suddenly, I didn’t remember a transformation from bustling to empty.

An eerie silence came with the emptiness. No sounds of motors from anywhere in the city reached me. No incessant chirping of crickets. Porch lights and streetlights were out. Only the streetlights illuminating the square stayed lit.

There it was again.

Clip-clop, clip-clop
, echoing in the unnatural stillness of the night. This time, the beat didn’t sound so cheerful. As the prominent noise grew louder, a mysterious fog rolled along the ground, covering grass, flowerbeds, and tiled walkways. The black cloud surrounded the base of General Oglethorpe’s statue, and then came together in a large mass moving toward me.

I didn’t run this time. I stood my ground and waited.

The white head of a horse appeared out of the dark mist, followed by its rider and the rest of the animal. Solomon Brandt sat, proud and handsome, atop Excalibur. He looked exactly like he did in the memory in my head. His black hair shone like silken threads out of the bottom of his top hat. And his eyes, even in the dim light, were the truest blue I had even seen. No fiery rings circled them. One thing was different, though; I could see through him, as if he was a faint essence of himself and not a whole person.