Reborn (8 page)

When the light pressure left my leg, and her hair lifted away from my face, filling the small space between us with fresh air, a medley of emotions spilled over me. Inside my chest, my heart swelled, emitting warmth that spread to the rest of my body, igniting parts I’d forgotten existed—awakening desires I may never have felt before. The moment robbed me of speech, of all other thoughts but the beautiful creature in front of me, against me. Then she took a step away, setting me free of the hold she unknowingly had on me. I held a hand near her, in case she took another stumble. When she turned to face me, I dropped it to my side, but the tips of my fingers burned to touch her warm skin again. She stood so closely, I could see a dark outline of my image in her pupils, the light green rings surrounding me, like the grass surrounding the garden.

“Are you all right?” I asked in a more mellow tone than I was used to hearing from me, watching, waiting for her lips to move, to hear her next words.

Her gaze softened. The pink in her cheeks deepened.

“Yeah,” she said. She brushed a fuzzy bunch of hair away from her face. “Thanks.”

Excalibur didn’t seem impressed as he nudged me in the shoulder, issuing a low neigh, as if to say, “Move along.”

Glancing at the stallion looming behind my back, Desiree grinned and said, “Okay, okay,” then turned toward Melba’s.

“I’m really not that clumsy,” she said while walking back. “I should know better than to wear wedges into the woods.

Melba stood by a flower garden, a rake in one hand, the other latched to her hip, when we broke out of the woods and into the yard. The lines on her forehead were deeper than usual. Her face held no smile. She flicked her concerned gaze from me to her niece and held it there.

Desiree held up the spindly plant and smiled sweetly. “I was hoping you could make me some of that orange bergamot bath oil.”

“With that one sorry-ass plant?” Melba eyed her niece dubiously.

Then she turned her suspicion on me, and I got the feeling she wasn’t too happy about Desiree and me being in the woods together—alone.

“Solomon, you’re wet.” She gave me a pointed look. “Did you fall into the river?”

“No. I…” I swallowed a nervous lump, feeling as if I’d done something wrong, which was an odd feeling, as if I were a child. “I was in need of a bath, and the river was there, and…”

Melba grabbed the pendants hanging around her neck and lifted her face to the sky, mumbling something inaudible. Then she gave a deep sigh and held her hand out. “I see you brought lunch.”

“Yes.” I handed her the stick with the fish.

“Come Desiree, I need you to help me in the kitchen.”

Desiree gave me an apologetic look, then hurried after her aunt, leaving me in the rear.

“Lunch will be ready in half an hour,” Melba called back to me as we neared the house.

With the awkward moment over, I headed to the apartment to brush my teeth and fix my hair. Excalibur headed to the willow—the place he spent most of his time. For some reason, I felt the need to look less grungy, so I shaved the dark shadow off my face and changed. In the bottom of one bag, I found a wrinkled, blue and gray striped shirt and put it on with the jeans I wore. With my fingers, I brushed the nearly dry hair back off my face.

His
face was more chiseled, less gaunt, his neck thicker, and his hands bigger, more powerful. I was beginning to think we didn’t look alike after all—the evil slave owner, and me.

The odor of fried fish and heavy spice greeted me inside Melba’s back door, but that wasn’t the only greeting I received. The sound of argumentative voices drifted back to me as I stepped inside.

“You know it isn’t the season for bergamot,” Melba said. “The flowers haven’t bloomed yet.”

“I didn’t know he was…”

Desiree’s soft drawl ended abruptly as I stepped into the kitchen doorway. Both women stared, and I got the feeling I wasn’t welcome by at least one of them.

“Forgive me, shall I come back?” I stood there, feeling awkward.

“No.”

That one word rushed out of Desiree’s lips, while Melba still opened hers. Instead of whatever she was going to say, Melba set her lips in a thin line and turned toward the stove.

Desiree, looking slightly frantic, scooted closer to me.

“I was just coming to get you for lunch.” Her smile cut through the tension, brightening the atmosphere, somewhat.

Hesitantly, I made my way toward the table. Without looking at me, Melba pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit in it. Desiree sat to my left, Melba to my right.

The table was laden with a fresh batch of buttermilk biscuits, last night’s leftover vegetables fried together, a plate piled with fried fish pieces, and a pot of steaming tea. After Desiree dished up a serving of food, covering one corner of her plate, Melba filled my plate, then took a small helping for herself.

Desiree broke the silence. “Auntie Mel told me how you came here and what you remember.” Her voice was soft as she spoke with a mouthful of biscuit. “I’m going to see what I can find out when I go back to campus.”

“About what?”

“About you, of course. Your name, for starters. It shouldn’t be hard to dig up some history on Solomon Brandt.” She bowed her head and smeared sweet potato over her plate, covering up the little blue bouquet in the center. “The slave diaries at Savannah State should be a good starting point.”

Melba stopped chewing. Worry creased her forehead. She placed a thin hand on my wrist and gave me a distressed look. “Are you sure you want to delve into the unknown, Solomon? Some truths are best left in the past.”

“Sure he does,” Desiree cut in. “He needs to know who he really is. He needs an identity.”

The looks the two women shared across the table could have sliced through the tension in the air.

I put down my fork and turned toward Melba. “Don’t you want me to find out where I belong?”

Her word was golden to me, and I would probably obey whatever she said, since in a way, she saved me from… out there.

“Yes, Solomon, I do want you to find yourself.” With a light pat on my wrist, she lifted her hand off me and continued eating.

Lunch filled the void, but a gnawing ache had manifested itself in the pit of my stomach during our conversation. I got the feeling Melba knew more than she let on.

esiree left shortly after lunch. The two hours after her departure seemed empty, like something was missing. Working in the garden that afternoon was a blur of images of the green-eyed, persimmon-haired beauty who I’d known so briefly.

Time became painful as day turned into night. After dark, Desiree’s image began to fade, and the vile Solomon, the plantation owner’s image, appeared in her place. Visions of the previous night’s dream chased sleep away, until the middle of the night, when my eyelids finally fell shut.

Glorious rays of sunshine, beaming across the bed, brought in the next morning. No horrid dreams ate my sleep away, no dreams at all. Peace and comfort surrounded me and entered my body with every breath. According to the sun shining on the far wall, I was certain it was mid-morning. I took a deep breath, reluctant to come out from under the bed coverings, and then got up.

Today, I would try showering.

After adjusting the taps to get the water temperature and the flow just right, I stepped inside the enclosure and let the spray do its work. A blue and white striped bar of soap sat in a niche in the tiled wall. I picked up the slippery rectangle and rubbed it over my body, then lathered a drop of shampoo into my hair. The new scents tickled my nose and made me sneeze, but I felt super clean and ready for the day ahead. Melba even commented over breakfast on how good I smelled, and how lustrous my hair looked.

Despite all the yard work, plus Melba’s company, the next two days seemed like weeks as they passed by slowly. Suddenly, there was more to life than mowing lawns and eating Melba’s delicious meals—there was Desiree. But it seemed as if she’d never come back. With time, the brightness that surrounded me darkened, bringing back disturbing images.

Then Wednesday morning came—the day Melba promised to take me to work with her. As she cleaned up after breakfast, I busied myself with telling Excalibur where I was going. He gave an unceremonious snort, with his muzzle buried deep into the grass. He might not have cared, but it would be only the second time I’d left him since we arrived—the first being the previous day when Melba gave me a driving lesson out her nearly deserted road and back.