To Whisper Her Name (27 page)

W
ith the back hem of her skirt — minus crinoline and hoop — tucked snuggly into her waistband, Olivia maneuvered one leg out the window. Ridley was right, this
wardrobe alteration
revealed far less than she’d imagined, and the dim light of the single oil lamp aided her determined modesty. But when she caught a glimpse of the ground far below, as well as a mental image of what she was doing, she started to climb back inside.

Ridley’s grip tightened on her arm. “Don’t look down. Just concentrate on where you’re going to put your other foot. I won’t let go of you, I promise.”

“What if I fall?” she whispered, suddenly out of breath.

“You’re not going to fall. Climbing’s just like walking, except you’re going up or down. With walking, it’s one step at a time. With climbing, it’s one hold at a time. Now ease your other leg out … I’ve got you.”

She started to do as he said, then stopped. “I don’t think I want to do this, Ridley. I don’t think I can.”

The distant croak of bullfrogs and cadence of neighboring crickets filled a sudden silence.

“It’s all right if you don’t want to, Olivia.” Ridley’s voice blended with the darkness, soft and deep. “And I won’t fault you if that’s what you decide. But before you climb back in, I want you to know that you
can
do this. You’re
able
even if you choose not to. There’s a world of difference between the two.”

Olivia looked at him from her perch in the window and even in the dim light saw not a trace of coercion in his features, nor did she hear it in his voice. He was simply speaking the truth as he saw it. Like he always did.

Despite the warm night air, her chin shook. She knew in that moment if she didn’t do this now, she never would. And she wanted to. Despite being almost paralyzed with fear, she wanted to.

Gripping the windowsill until her fingers ached, she maneuvered her other leg out.

“When you find your foothold,” he said, keeping a firm hand at her waist, “test it to make sure it’s the lattice and not part of the vine.”

She nodded, working to push away the thought of falling. But the more she tried to push it away, the more it came. So she focused her attention on what it would feel like when she found a secure hold on the lattice —

And she did!

She pushed down with the ball of her foot, making sure she was on the lattice, like he’d said. She gave a laugh. “I’m out of the window!”

“Yes, you are!” Again, Ridley’s arm came securely about her waist.

She stared back inside her room. What a difference there was in being out here versus being in there. Not but a few inches in relation to distance. But an entire world away — as Ridley had said — in perspective.

She glanced behind her over the darkened meadow, her eyes adjusting to the moon’s silvery cast.

“Just pause here for a second.” He reached around her and gripped the lattice on the other side, effectively bracing her against the wall. “Take a minute and gain your bearings.”

She took some deep breaths. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Feels great, doesn’t it? Trying something you’ve never done before?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not really. Not yet, anyway. But I think it might … if I don’t die in the process.” She giggled in spite of herself.

“Get a feel for where your hands and feet are in relation to each other. And in just a second, we’ll move down a rung. Whoever built this lattice built it exactly like a ladder. So just imagine yourself climbing down a —”

“I’ve never been on a ladder.”

“All right then.” He exhaled. Or had he laughed? “That’s something else we’ll remedy soon enough. But for now … you’re doing very well. I’m proud of you, Olivia.”

Appreciating the encouragement, she wondered if he could feel her trembling.

“Now … I’m going to take a step down. And once I’m done, I want you to do the same.”

“What if I step on your foot when I go?”

“You won’t.”

“But what if I do?”

“Then I’ll plunge to my certain death without having lived a full and meaningful life. But I don’t want you feeling badly if that happens.”

Olivia affected a sober tone. “Not to worry … I won’t. After all, this was your idea.”

Laughing, he moved down a rung, just below and beside her. “All right, your turn.”

Releasing hold of the lattice with her left hand proved to be one of the hardest things she’d ever done. The simple act of letting go seemed counter to logic. But feeling Ridley beside her, feeling his hold on her arm, she let loose.

Then she did it again and again, taking turns with him as they climbed lower, until finally her boot touched solid ground. She hadn’t slipped once. Relief — and
exhilaration
— poured through her. She peered up at her bedroom window, so high above them, hardly believing she’d done it. And so thrilled that she had.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was terrifying!” She gave him a little shove in the chest. “But exciting too!” She untucked her skirt from her waistband and shook some fullness back into it.

He bowed at the waist and offered his arm, pale moonlight illuminating his handsome face. “And now, m’lady … Would you care to accompany me on a walk?”

Surprised at her own willingness to tuck her hand so easily through the crook of his arm, she did just that, enjoying the feel of the earth beneath her boots — something she doubted she’d ever take for granted again.

They strolled around front of the darkened house, then by the gardens, keeping their voices low. The Belle Meade she knew by day seemed another world this time of night. Usually the grounds were bustling with activity, servants, and animals. But under the July moon, all was hushed. Only the occasional nicker of a thoroughbred drifted toward them from the stables. A quiet peace settled over the rolling waves of earth that gradually crescendoed to the hills surrounding
the meadow, and Olivia drank it in. No wonder General Harding’s father had chosen this spot so many years ago.

The darkness shifted up ahead, and Olivia stopped cold. “Ridley!” she whispered, tugging on his forearm. “I saw someone! Up by the smokehouse!”

He covered her hand. “I saw him too. That was Big Ike Carter.”

“Susanna’s husband?” He nodded.

“What’s he doing out here at this time of night?”

“He’s keeping watch.”

She looked at him, not understanding.

“Since the night of the fire, men have been patrolling the grounds at night. General Harding’s orders. At first, every man just took a turn at it. But that was hard … working the night shift, then your regular job the next day too. Someone suggested breaking the time into two shifts, and letting the men sign up to do it if they wanted. For pay. General Harding agreed. The men don’t earn much, but it’s enough to give them an incentive. And it’s worked out well so far. Big Ike’s taking the first shift tonight.”

She frowned. “I’ve never seen any of these …
sentries
out after dark before.”

“Good.” He resumed walking, and she did likewise. “That means we’re doing our job.”

“So you take part in it as well?”

“I did at first. But since we started compensating the men, I haven’t. I make a good enough wage already. Most of the men — the former slaves — don’t.”

She didn’t have to think long before she realized something. “You’re the one who suggested the idea to the general, aren’t you?”

He stared ahead, then finally nodded. “I believe a man should be paid a fair wage for honest work. No matter who that man is.”

She studied his profile, something else occurring to her. “Were your parents abolitionists, Ridley?”

“No. But they never owned slaves. Never had enough money to. Which suited me fine.”

She turned these thoughts over, and as she and Ridley passed the smokehouse, she barely made out Big Ike’s mountainous form in the shadows at the far end. He tipped his hat in silent acknowledgement, and Ridley gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“So,” she continued, her curiosity roused, “as a Southern man, you fought in the war, all the while holding that slavery was wrong.”

“I wasn’t the only Southern man to do that,” he said quietly.

“No, I’m sure you weren’t. But you’re the only one I know.”

He opened his mouth as if to respond, then apparently changed his mind.

This was nice, strolling beside him. She enjoyed the feel of her hand tucked in his arm.

“You’re enjoying teaching Jimmy and Jolene.”

It wasn’t a question, and she nodded. “Very much.”

“I’m glad. They seem to like it too.” He nudged her. “I told you you’d make a good teacher.”

She grinned. “Yes, you did.” Spotting something ahead, she squinted to see it better, then gestured. “What happened to the other wheels?”

Ridley stopped by the carriage, the one she’d arrived in on her first day at Belle Meade. “We stripped them a while back. Took off everything that was still salvageable. We’ll chop the rest and use it for kindling for the smokehouse.”

Huddled in the dark, the dismembered carriage looked sad and squatty with its wheels gone, the good door too. Olivia walked around to the damaged side and peered in. The seats were absent as well. She ran a hand along the side that had been crushed by the impact, marveling again that she hadn’t fallen out.

“Careful of splinters.” Ridley came alongside her. “It’s pretty chewed up on this side.”

Briefly closing her eyes, she could still see the ground rushing up to meet her. “I remember the door flying open,” she said softly. “I still don’t know how I managed not to fall out.”

She remembered the day Elizabeth had seen the extent of the damage and how shocked she’d been. “Aunt Elizabeth believes God closed the door for me. That he kept me safe for a reason. I’ve nearly come to believe she’s right.”

Ridley’s silence proved even louder than the night’s.

Finally, she turned to him. “You don’t agree?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Your silence suggested it.”

He walked back around to the other side, pausing where the door had been.

She peered through to him. “Do you not believe in God, Ridley?”

“Oh, I believe in him, all right. It’s not that. It’s just …”

She sensed his tension from where she stood.

“I just think that crediting those kinds of things to the Almighty …” He shook his head. “Well, it may not always be the whole truth of the matter.”

She frowned. “You don’t think God could have shut the door, if he’d wanted to?”

“Of course, I do. I’m not saying he couldn’t have — or didn’t — work to keep you safe in this carriage that day. But knowing you like I’ve come to, my guess is that you were doing a pretty good job of trying to save yourself.”

“Well, of course I was. But I
saw
that door come open, Ridley. I
felt
myself falling out.”

“I don’t doubt that. But too many times in my life, I’ve heard people say, ‘Well, this happened for a reason, so it must be God’s will.’ When in my mind, I look at the situation and think maybe he’s just expecting them to get off their sorry —” He glanced away. “To stop sitting around waiting on him to do everything, and to get to work themselves to change things.”

Olivia studied his profile in the moonlight, recalling what he’d said to the general earlier that evening. “Some things are the way they are because we’ve never changed them.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he nodded. “That’s right.”

“General Harding obviously doesn’t believe that. Not in the same way you do, at least. But you knew that before you said it.”

“I did.”

“And yet you said it to him anyway.”

“Because it needed to be said. I don’t think it’s fair to try to chalk up the way we choose to do some things as being according to some …
divine
plan. Same thing when certain things happen, like this.” He patted the side of the carriage. “Because a lot of what happens in this life is just dead wrong.”

Pain etched his voice, as did a harshness, both of which Olivia understood — and shared. How many times had she questioned God’s fairness? It hadn’t been fair that Charles treated her the way he had. Yet God had seemingly looked the other way. Just like he had during the war and when the North had finally, and profoundly, proved victorious.

Looking at Ridley now, she could almost see an invisible weight bearing down on him, and she wondered if the years of fighting were to blame. If the defeat of the Confederacy had done to him what it had to so many other Southern sons. Perhaps that was why he’d seemed so eager to leave the South at first. Yet she hadn’t heard any of that kind of talk from him in a while.

He walked back to where she stood. “I’m sorry, Olivia.” Frustration darkened his tone. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to walk with me tonight.”

Funny, she was thinking the same thing. “That’s all right. I …” She shrugged. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought up the subject of —”

“No … I want us to be able to talk about things. Even things we don’t agree about. Especially those things.”

She nodded and bowed her head. But with a finger beneath her chin, he gently urged her gaze upward. He tugged a curl at her temple, like he might have done with little Jolene. And though it wasn’t an intimate gesture, something about it didn’t feel like that of a mere friend either.

“Whether God closed that door,” he whispered, “or you did, or whether it was the two of you colluding together …” Warmth deepened his voice. “I’m grateful you’re still here, Olivia Aberdeen.”

His simple admittance ignited a spark in her and made her feel appreciated, wanted.

He offered his arm for a second time. “Would you allow me the honor of escorting you back to your window, m’lady?”

Of course
was on the tip of her tongue, but Olivia felt a spontaneity she couldn’t explain and shook her head. “No, I won’t, Mr. Cooper.”

He grew very still.

“You promised me a walk, and so far, all you’ve given me is a mere stroll and a conversation-turned-near-argument. So, no.” She tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow, feeling emboldened and liking it. “I’m not ready to go back to my window just yet. I’d very much like that walk you promised instead.”