The Sun Rises (Southern Legacy Book 4) (24 page)

Guilt weighed upon her. Why was she here in comfort instead of paying for her sins…sins that God had deemed everyone should pay—both North and South—and pay greatly for their transgression in acceptance of that horrendous practice. None had been spared his wrath: those who benefited, those who accepted, and even the ones who turned a blind eye. The sole source of brightness throughout these tragic years had yielded only one thing—the abolition of slavery.

Magnolia Bluff survived. The family survived, but that, too, had come with a price. Jo doubted she would ever be able to return. The hatred spawned toward the Yankees extended to her, though not to Cullen. She had been painted a minx by Charleston society. Cullen was a loyal soldier, respected by his peers, even if it was on the side of the enemy.

For so long, Jo had thought the letters she had sent to Mother Montgomery, Jenna, and Charlotte had gotten lost due to the war and aftermath. It wasn’t until she read a letter Andrew had sent Cullen that she fully understood that she had truly been shunned.

It is unfortunate. I have tried to reason with Mother, but she refuses to listen. The atmosphere here in Charleston lends to their discontent with Josephine. The rumors and whispers have done their damage that I can’t undo without confessing the whole truth. Guilt is heavy on my conscience knowing I’m responsible, but I can’t explain Jo’s silence while she was in prison. To be honest, I did not realize how important it would be to maintain our secret indefinitely. Regrettable that Jo suffers from our actions.

A couple of months after the war, Cullen felt it his duty to travel down to Charleston. Although not welcome with open arms, no one turned their backs on him. He stayed with his family and secured Magnolia Bluff from the taxes that were draining most of the other plantations.

The South had been inundated with carpetbaggers who showed little sympathy toward Southerners. Cullen insulated his family from the backlash, even offered help to a few of their neighbors. More importantly, the secret shared between Andrew and Cullen had been kept. Wade’s legacy to his son had been saved.

Jo kept reminding herself it was not her, but Percival’s legacy that was of the utmost importance. Her disgrace meant little. A small sacrifice to maintain what Wade had fought to keep for his son. Reprimanding herself greatly for indulging in her own sorrows, she fought the surge of grief that swelled in her. The long denied acknowledgment—she greatly missed her home and the family she left behind.

But she had Miss Hazel, only now her mammy had a life different than Jo’s. As she had in the past, Miss Hazel had stayed by Jo’s side until she recovered. Afterwards, Miss Hazel went home to care for Tome. She had a life outside of Jo.

At the time of her abduction, Jo had not realized that it had been Heyward who had killed Harry Lee. Cullen hadn’t told her until much later. He had wisely chosen to keep the information a secret.

There had been no doubt she owed her life to Heyward, but there was also no doubt that they could never reveal the truth. Cullen took credit for killing the assailant. No matter that the death had been justified: even in Philadelphia, it would not do to admit that a black man killed a white.

Heyward could live the rest of his life with the knowledge he avenged his wife’s death, but Jo suspected it only gave him a semblance of peace. What he truly wanted, he couldn’t have. Gillie was never coming back.

Moreover, Harry Lee’s true identity was never acknowledged. The authorities determined that he must have been one of the Confederate soldiers held as a prisoner of war at Fort Delaware who held a grudge against Colonel Holly. In his quest for revenge, he followed Colonel Holly to Philadelphia and massacred not only Holly but everyone in his path.

There had been no mention of any devious plot to kill Jo or that Elizabeth was also a culprit instead of a victim. There had been no scandal, only an outpouring of sympathy for poor Monica Smythe.

The question that burned inside Jo was not whether God would forgive her, but could she forgive herself? Her conscience gnawed at her. She had tried so hard to do what was right, but in the midst of everything that happened, everything had gotten so confusing. With every move, her actions had consequences.

A wave crashed upon her, drenching her soundly. Startled for a moment, she gasped for air. Another broke over her. She didn’t move.

Suddenly, a hand jerked her backward with such force she would have fallen to the ground had not strong arms grasped hold of her. “My God! Josephine! Could you not hear me?”

The rain-driven wind gusted. She tried to turn away from him, but Cullen would have none of it. He reached over and cupped her face in his hands.

“Josephine! Josephine!” he cried against the wind. “What are you doing? Father sent for me because he was worried about you. Josephine, look at me.” Staring into her eyes, his voice softened. “What are you doing?”

Her gaze lowered, but he lifted her chin up so her eyes met his desperately pleading eyes. Pushing back against him, anger rose within her. She shouted, “I wanted only to feel again! I want to feel.”

“I want you to feel again…for me,” he cried. “Come back to me, Josephine. I need you. The children need you.”

He wrapped his arms around her. He declared, “I love you. I will never stop loving you, Josephine. I need you so desperately…”

“I don’t know if I can. I want to...”

He leaned down and pushed back her rain-soaked hair from her face. His lips claimed hers with a kiss that left no doubt of his desire for her. Breaking from her, his lips lingered. “I know you love me, Josephine. I know it. I’m not going to let you go.”

“How can you love me? What right have I to be happy?”

“The right that we should have never been parted. I’m not going to let you go down this path any longer for some nonsense feeling of guilt. We were supposed to be together before this cursed war. It was right then…it is right now. You aren’t responsible for the actions of others. It is not your fault we survived.”

Her trembling lips whispered, “I want it to be as it was…I just don’t know how to fix this. How can I, Cullen, when every time I close my eyes I see their faces?”

“Let me be your strength. Lean on me and don’t push me away. I’m not going anywhere.” Through the wind and rain, he refused to let her go. “You need to fight, Josephine, for the life in front of us. The past…leave it. It can’t be undone. We have everything we need as long as we are together.”

Searching her eyes, he went on. “Remember when I pulled you out of an ocean storm once before? You asked how can it be? It can be because fate has destined us to be together. We have been through too much to lose it all now. I love you, Josephine. Tell me you love me too. Tell me and we will survive whatever is before us…together.”

She reached out and touched his face, his handsome face. Everything in her being cried out to him. It had always and would forever. She tilted her face to him. “I do love you, Cullen.”

He needed nothing else. He swept her off her feet, out of the ocean, out of the storm and into his arms.

Rosemount

October, 1884

Driving sheets of rain slashed against the windowpane. Josephine watched until the precipitation dwindled to where the autumn leaves illuminated within the swirl of gray mist.

For over nineteen years, her life had been happy and content with Cullen by her side. For most of the year, Rosemount was her home and escape from the hustle and bustle of Philadelphia. Moreover, it had been a wonderful place to raise their family.

But to survive, she found she had to block out the memories of her past. Now, with the mere mention that her eldest child had accepted his inheritance, the past flooded back. A vivid reminder that hidden deep within her soul there was a semblance of the person she once was.

At times, Josephine had almost vanquished thoughts of Charleston and Magnolia Bluff. Then this visitor arrived and a sudden remembrance surfaced of her youth. Her chest tightened. She didn’t want to be pressed so. She turned from the window and sighed.

Across the elegant drawing room sat her anxious guest. For a moment, Jo did not speak, but studied the young lady.

Annalee Williams was a pretty, young thing. Her brown curly locks were piled loosely on top of her head, with bangs curling above her large green eyes. She wore a dress meant to impress of emerald brocade fashioned with two narrow pleats on the underskirt and trimmed with white embroidered ruffles.

Jo thought she favored her mother, except when she smiled. Her face radiated a confidence Charlotte never had. The exuberant look upon her face betrayed the innocence that only the young hold.

“How is your mother?” Jo settled herself on the floral upholstered sofa.

Drawing in a deep breath, Annalee answered, “Momma is well. She said I couldn’t come all this way and not call on you. I have heard about you all my life, Miss Josephine. You don’t mind me calling you Miss Josephine, do you? Forgive me, but it’s how Momma talks of you but she calls you…”

“Jo,” she said politely. “No one calls me Jo much anymore. Another time and place.”

“Momma told me stories about the two of you when I was growing up, Miss Josephine.” Annalee pressed her lips together in a manner as if pondering her next words. “I was wondering. Do you think of us at all? I mean, you live so far away. How do you do so?”

Josephine looked strangely at the girl. Her words had cut sharply. Yes, the feelings were still within her. No matter how hard she had fought to suppress them, never to let anyone know or suspect they still existed.

“To live up North after the war or away from everything I had once held so dear?”

The poor girl seemed frazzled at her answer. 
Were there tears welling in her young eyes?
 Oh my! She hadn’t meant to distress the young woman. Then, comprehension dawned upon her. Percival! Josephine reached into her skirt pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to the poor thing.

“Oh, what you must think of me! Momma says that I’m too bold by half! She says it will be my downfall for certain. Pray, forgive me, Miss Josephine,” she rambled on. “But I love Percival so. Momma says it won’t last and I will be miserable forever! It would be best to break it off now.”

She sniffled ever so softly. “But in truth, Miss Josephine, I will be miserable forever if I never see him again. Daddy has threatened me if I marry Percival. He told me he would cut me off as if I never existed. I told him I didn’t care, but I don’t know if I can do as you…to walk away from the only home I know…” She paused and wiped back her tears. “But…” She swallowed. “I love my home, Miss Josephine. My family. Percival says it is up to me. He can’t make me leave everything behind, even though I know he thinks I should without a thought. I don’t know what I should do.”

Josephine’s expression softened on the girl. She reached over and patted the girl’s hand ever so gently. “I don’t know what to tell you, my child. It isn’t for me to say. I have only my story. I don’t think it pertains to you. We each have to make decisions and only then can we live with ourselves.”

“No, please don’t do this to me,” she pleaded. “You don’t know what I have done to come here. I have pulled old Miss Creighton along upon this trip to see you and only you. I know you can help me. I feel it within me.”

The girl withdrew from her chair and eased down by Josephine’s side. Taking Jo’s hand in hers, she laid her head upon Josephine’s knees. “Please. I want to know how you feel. There is no other who can come close to what I ask or understand. For are we not Southern women? No one else can understand the pull upon us. To make choices between what we hold upon our hearts. Loyalty to a home in which we love so dear and a life we so desire. Please, Miss Josephine, talk to me of how you feel now after all this time. Would you now make the choices you made in your youth?”

“Choices can’t be undone, only lived with,” Josephine whispered. Decisions made so many years ago had dictated her life today. Some she had had control over; the others she had not.

She wondered briefly whether she would have done things differently. She did not think she would. Of course, it was a senseless question. One could not go back in time.

Sounds of a carriage rolling to a stop before the house silenced Jo. Cullen was home. A few moments later, he appeared in the doorway with their youngest in tow.

“My dear, Quentin told me we had a visitor.” Cullen released the young lad, who giggled and ran over to his mother.

Hugging her, the dark-haired five-year-old said, “Grandmother wanted me to ask if we have company for dinner.”

“Tell Grandmother that we will indeed have a guest and to have Penniford make a room up for her as well. Can you do that, my sweet?”

“Yes, Momma.” Quentin smiled at their visitor and scooted out the door.

Cullen walked across the room. Leaning down, he kissed her cheek. Jo’s eyes lingered on her handsome husband’s face. After all their years together, he still made her heart flutter.

“Darling, have you met Charlotte’s daughter, Annalee?” Jo turned back to their guest, who had returned to her seat and tried her best to compose herself. “Annalee has traveled all the way from Charleston with the most wonderful news. Our wayward son is not lost. Percival is at Magnolia Bluff.”

* * * *

Magnolia Bluff

Once more, Josephine walked the grounds of Magnolia Bluff. She had arrived for Percival’s wedding to Annalee Williams. Over the years, she had never returned, knowing time had done little to diminish the wound the war had left. Memories lived long in the South. Most still considered her a traitor.

In that, she had lived with. Along with the knowledge that Magnolia Bluff endured the onslaught of reconstruction. The reality of the South’s restoration had been a harsh road to travel. Charleston had been devastated. The city itself needed to be rebuilt. It had never recovered from the fire of ’61. Every bridge and trestle had been destroyed; the depot burned. Even the train tracks had to be re-laid.

Plantations had changed. Many families lost their farms due to the taxes owed. Carpetbaggers swept down and took advantage of the desperate situation. Dark days had descended upon the South. Most in the Carolinas had found the best way of enduring was sharecropping. Rice was no longer a feasible cash crop. Soon, it was replaced with tobacco, cotton, and corn.

The circumstances had been no different for Magnolia Bluff. The plantation had not been profitable for years. Taxes had to be paid; a feasible cash crop had to be found. Life for the once affluent Montgomery family had become a struggle.

Wade had left Magnolia Bluff to Percival in his will. The rest of his estate was to be divided between his children and Josephine, but the once hefty inheritance had dwindled due to the financial burden of the war.

Through the years, Cullen had traveled several times down to Charleston and made the arrangements to help Magnolia Bluff survive the war. Andrew had overseen the everyday affairs of the estate. Slowly, the family had begun to recover.

The reality of the world around Josephine had made the dream that Percival would take his place as master of the plantation fade. For years, Percival had displayed irresponsible behavior, which sorely tried his father’s nerves. He had steadfastly refused to go to the Naval Academy and had not distinguished himself in the family business.

With the greatest reluctance, Percival had agreed to go to Harvard. Josephine was thrilled he had completed his years at the university. The whole immediate family traveled to Boston for his graduation. But instead of returning to Philadelphia after the festivities with his family, Percival had disappeared, leaving a note for his mother not to worry about him.

She assumed that Percival was trying to prove himself to his father. Now, it seemed that Percival had his own ideas about his future.

The night Annalee had made her appearance at Rosemount, Josephine approached the subject with her husband within the confines of their bedroom.

“Percival told you where he was.” Josephine said it as a statement. In truth, there was no need to ask a question when she already knew the answer. She saw it in her husband’s eyes.

“He asked me not to tell you.”

“And you agreed?”

“He did not want to hurt you,” Cullen said. “I have known for a while he wanted to live in Charleston. When he disappeared after his graduation, I deduced it was his destination. I confirmed it with a telegram to Andrew. I did not know about his intentions with Miss Williams, although it does not surprise me.”

Josephine couldn’t deny the hurt Percival inflicted by keeping from her his plans. Granted, she had seen little of him the last couple of years, what with school and traveling during his vacations, but she never suspected his trips had been to Charleston.

Both of her older children had had their own share of difficulties finding their place in the world. Their connections to the South had left them with a feeling of alienation, belonging neither to the North or South.

Josephine inhaled a deep, steadying breath. “I am not a child, Cullen.”

“That is not a question, my love,” he asserted. “I did not tell you at first because we were dealing with Madeline. Afterwards, I confess it was easier not to refer to Percival’s intentions.”

Josephine paused at the mention of her oldest daughter…her stubborn, willful daughter who at one point seemed hell-bent on self-destruction. That was, until Hugh McFadden had taken matters into his hands by marrying her.

Oh, she had no desire to relive those days. Cullen had ranted endlessly when Hugh announced his intention to marry Madeline. Then, Jo had known. Without telling Cullen, she had gone to Hugh for help.

Her beautiful, confused daughter had thought herself in love with a scoundrel…a married man, who had quite taken advantage of Madeline’s innocence. When the man broke off their relationship, Madeline became obsessed with the rejection to the point where she wanted to confront the wife.

Aghast when Madeline finally confessed the details of the affair, Jo had no one else to turn to but Hugh because Cullen was away on business. Having only recently retired from the Navy as a commander, Hugh had not hesitated.

Hugh handled the situation and a scandal was averted. Moreover, less than three months afterwards, the once confirmed bachelor married her daughter. Reservations of Madeline marrying a man over twenty years older than herself fueled Josephine’s doubts. But over time, her fears were allayed. It became quite apparent that Madeline adored Hugh. Her daughter had become a different person, content and had only just become a mother herself to the most precious, beautiful baby girl, Corinne Margaret McFadden.

“Cullen, Madeline hasn’t been an issue for quite some time. What are you trying to tell me?”

His hesitation wasn’t lost on Josephine. She pressed. “You have known he wanted to live in Charleston for over two years?”

“I realized the time would come, but I wanted Percival to tell you himself.”

Percival had not.

Not until his fiancée had come north to meet her. Jo assumed Annalee’s questions must have been answered. For now the whole family was here at Magnolia Bluff to enjoy the impending nuptials.

Jo visited Miss Hazel before she departed. The dear old woman had just turned eighty, half blind, but still worked in her garden and cooked for Heyward, no matter that Heyward had hired her a housekeeper.

“Lordy, child, got nothing to hang your head about. Why, them down there should open their arms to ya! I got no doubt ya helped every one of ’em after the war,” Miss Hazel declared.

Jo could not argue with Miss Hazel. She never could. Miss Hazel never lost faith and had thrived in her adopted home. Active in her church, Miss Hazel had become a pillar of her community.

Miss Hazel’s joy was her family. She beamed when she talked of both Heyward and Tome. Heyward had become a successful businessman in his own right. He had his own cabinet works, H&T Wright Company, not to mention his real estate dealings. Though, Heyward had never remarried. Jo doubted he ever would. His heart still belonged to Gillie.

Tome had grown into a fine young man. He had done his pa and grandmother proud. Last year, not only had Tome married a lovely young lady from his church, he had become a physician. Never had she seen such happiness illuminate from both Miss Hazel and Heyward.