Touching the Sky (21 page)

L
aura listened without interest as her mother talked on and on about the upcoming Christmas social season. They had received invitations from several people, and while the economy of the town and state was still not good, it was enough to know the war was behind them and this Christmas they could truly celebrate.

“We must have new gowns,” she said, stopping for a moment to tap her chin. “I shall discuss this with your father immediately. Perhaps he will allow me to purchase something for Carissa, as well. After all, since we had the wedding party earlier, we can hardly be expected to host a Christmas gathering. Without that added expense, your father will surely have enough money to spare for new gowns and gloves. Oh, and maybe even a fashionable new hat. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

She didn’t wait for Laura to respond. “The Davis family is hosting a Christmas Eve dance,” she said, putting aside her stack of invitations. “I’m so glad. A Christmas ball is always a magical experience. Why, I remember once when I was just newly turned out that one of the finest families held a Christmas ball, and that was where I fell in love with your father. It was a night of such wonders. . . . Perhaps it will be for you, as well. Perhaps your Captain Reid will propose.”

Laura looked at her mother in surprise. “I have given you no reason to think he might. Has he done something—said something?”

Mother gave a light laugh. “Goodness, Laura, it isn’t as though the rest of us can’t see what’s going on. The man adores you and you are clearly besotted with him. My only question is
when
you two will marry, not
if
.”

The idea of marriage to Brandon Reid thrilled Laura to the very core of her being; however, the problems with Malcolm had stolen much of her joy in even imagining wedded bliss. Malcolm’s heinous behavior had, in fact, taken almost all of Laura’s focus. Even when she was working to teach Esther and the others to read, she couldn’t help but wonder if Malcolm and his men would use violent means to see her stop.

“I think the atmosphere will be much improved by all of us delighting in the holiday season. I’ve already arranged to have Carlita and Esther retrieve the Christmas decorations from the attic. I thought this year we might even have a Christmas tree like the von Blüchers’ always have. What do you think?”

“Do you suppose Carissa will be there?”

“Be where?”

“At the Christmas ball,” Laura said, forgetting about her mother’s idea of a German tree. “You were talking about having Father buy her a new gown. I just wondered if you really thought she would attend.”

“And why not? She won’t yet be in her confinement. I doubt she’d even be showing, so I think it would be perfectly fine for her to be in attendance. Besides, if she has a new gown, Malcolm will no doubt want to show her off.” Mother got up from her chair. “I believe I’ll go speak to your father right now.” Her mother darted from the room without another word. It was as if the only thing of import in Mother’s world was having new dresses made.

Sighing in exasperation, Laura picked up a book she’d been trying to read and opened it to where she’d left off. For nearly half an hour she immersed herself in the challenges of poor Jane Eyre. Mr. Rochester had lied to Jane about his marital state, and the poor girl very nearly wed a married man.

Laura frowned at the tragic deception. Jane had fallen in love with a man who had not only lied to her, but had continued the falsehood very nearly at the cost of her innocence. Men could be so barbaric in their thinking. How could one ever consider such actions acceptable? But then again, how could Malcolm Lowe believe hitting his wife to be a reasonable response?

Laura thought instead of Brandon, of his gentle spirit and kindness toward her. He had been faithful to call on her and send little notes of encouragement since her teary carriage ride. She had to admit that Brandon was all that she could hope for in a husband. His sacrifices prior to and during the war had made him a hero in her eyes. But the stories he told her were never given to praise himself. Brandon shared the past in a way that either brought God glory or spoke in admiration of someone else.

He’s such an honorable man,
she thought. So unlike Malcolm. Malcolm didn’t care about putting his wife in danger. He only thought of himself.

She got up and walked to the piano, thinking she might like to practice a bit on some new Christmas pieces when something Brandon had said to her came to mind.

“Do not put yourself in harm’s way for the hope of revenge. I love you, and I cannot lose you.”

She clutched at her throat. “He said that he loved me.” Had she remembered correctly?

Laura struggled to remember the conversation word for word. She closed her eyes and pictured them sitting in the buggy.

His words were impassioned, and she recalled that he said he no longer wanted her help in the investigation. Again his declaration brought a lump to her throat.
“Do not put yourself in harm’s way for the hope of revenge. I love you, and I cannot lose you.”

“He loves me,” she murmured. How in the world had she missed that?

Laura sat down to consider what she should do. Perhaps Brandon was waiting for her to say something about the declaration. Perhaps upon reflection, he regretted his announcement. How could she bring up the subject without appearing brash?

But then another part of the conversation echoed in her head.
“I knew what I was getting myself into when I delayed my retirement to help in bringing Lowe to justice. . . .”

Something about that statement seemed oddly out of place. Brandon hadn’t delayed his retirement to bring Lowe to justice. He hadn’t even known there was a problem with Malcolm until Laura had shared the information she’d overheard the night of the wedding. Or had he?

She bit at her lower lip and tried to recall her first encounter with Brandon. In the alley, he had thought her to be a troublesome Southern belle who was abusing his men. Later at the party her parents held, Brandon mysteriously arrived as a guest. He was surprised to find her there, as well—surprised even more to learn of her family’s Union support.

“Miss Laura,” Esther said as she entered the room, “yar father wants to see ya in his study. He say for ya to come right away.”

Troubled for reasons she couldn’t yet put a finger on, Laura got to her feet. “Thank you, Esther.” She hoped the churning of her stomach wouldn’t be made worse by whatever her father wanted to discuss. It had been three days since Carissa’s party, and he’d said nothing to her about her announcement to teach reading and writing to the Negroes.

Making her way to the study, Laura spied the open door and stepped into the room. “You wanted to see me?”

Her father nodded soberly and pointed to a chair. “Please sit with me. I have something I want to discuss.”

Laura did as he told her, sitting prim and proper on the edge of a large leather wingback. “I suppose this is about my announcement at Carissa’s birthday party,” she said, hoping to just get the topic on the table.

“Indeed it is,” Father replied.

“First, please let me say that I did not take on this endeavor to disrespect you, Father. I simply saw a need—one that I felt confident I could meet.”

“I’m not angry, Laura. I wish you would have told me sooner, and that you wouldn’t have put yourself in such grave risk by going into the colored part of town.”

“But Jesus went where the sick people were,” Laura said with a weak smile.

Her father nodded. “But Jesus was a man—and the Son of God.” He smiled. “Even so, I want only to keep you safe—not forbid you to continue, as you might imagine.”

She felt her body relax a bit although she remained on the edge of her seat. Father came from around his desk and took the chair beside her. “I believe in your project, my dear, and I do want to help.”

“I was worried that you might not, since our previous conversation some time ago was not at all favorable.”

Father eased back in the chair and crossed his legs. “It’s true that I was less than supportive. I’m afraid it was simply bad timing for me. I’d recently listened to several friends who were speaking of the problems they were enduring because of the slaves being set free. These were good people, Laura. They were good to their slaves.”

“Can one truly be good to a person they claim to own?” she asked.

“I suppose not,” he replied. “Even so, the government was making a great deal of trouble for my friends and it tainted my thoughts that day. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Of course.” Laura leaned forward. “I hope you’ll forgive me, as well. I rarely have gone against you, and I felt quite worried about keeping my actions from you and Mother. As I said, it was never done as an act of defiance, but rather one of love.”

“All is forgiven,” her father assured. “Now, however, I believe we need to make plans. I delayed in speaking to you until I could figure a couple of things out. First, I have a location in mind where you might continue lessons. There is a small house on the edge of town near the colored section, but not in it. I believe it would be a suitable and safe place to arrange classes. If you agree, we can go take a look at it later today.”

“I would like that very much.”

“Second, I have spoken with some of my business associates, and we are arranging for tables and chairs, as well as the supplies you mentioned.”

“They know, don’t they, that there can be no charge to the students?” Laura asked. “Some of these people are living twenty to a shack and have no money. They are barely existing as it is, and schooling isn’t something they can afford.”

“They understand, my dear. We all do. I suppose for those of us with a conscience, we accept the responsibility and realize that it is by our hand and permission that the black man and his family were not allowed to receive a proper grounding in education. I can honestly say that I bear deep shame over this thought, but I also realize shame will not change the problem. A man might feel a great many things, but action is still required to prove the heart.”

Laura thought her father very wise. She also thought of Brandon’s declaration of love. He might feel love for her, but he hadn’t taken any action to truly prove his heart in the matter.

Her father smiled and continued. “So I propose that we work together. In fact, I would also like to find a young man who might assist you. Do you suppose that Mr. Reid might be interested?”

“For what purpose?” Laura asked.

“So that black men might also learn to read. I cannot allow for my daughter to teach men, and that is not negotiable.”

Laura understood and had already turned away two such requests. “I completely agree.” She thought for a moment. Working with Brandon would be something akin to wonderful; however, she knew he had spoken of starting a ranch. She frowned. Hadn’t he told her that he would have great difficulty ever working in the confines of a school?

“Since we are only meeting on Saturdays, Brandon might be willing to help—at least so long as he’s here in Corpus Christi. I know he has other . . . irons in the fire, so to speak. But perhaps if you were the one to ask him, he would agree.”

“Very good. I’ll speak to him as soon as an opportunity presents itself. I would feel quite safe knowing you were in his care.”

She thought of Brandon’s words of love once again and smiled. “I would, too.”

Malcolm felt as if people were watching him all day long. It seemed wherever he went, someone was off to the side, reading a newspaper or just whittling on a stick. They always seemed to refuse to look directly at him, and that made Malcolm even more suspicious.

He walked into the house at half past eight and smelled the faint aroma of food. At least Carissa had thought to fix him something to eat. Malcolm made his way into the kitchen and checked the warming receptacle. A covered plate awaited him. He took it and the coffeepot and went to the table.

“I’ll get you a cup and some silver,” Carissa said, startling him with her silent approach.

He spun around in his nervous state and all but lunged for her. Stopping himself, Malcolm drew in a deep breath and gave a curt nod. He sat down at the table and tried to steady his nerves. Nothing was going right. First they’d had unexpected delays in getting enough black powder, and now there were other problems with ammunitions and blasting caps. His intent to kill off a good number of the colored troops had been thwarted when they’d mustered out of the city in November. Now Malcolm wasn’t even sure they could carry through with their plans to create havoc on Christmas Eve. Nothing was working in his favor, and now . . . now he was certain someone was following him.

“I hope you had a good day,” Carissa said, putting the cup and silverware in front of him.

Malcolm took up the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. “It was fine.”

“I had another cooking lesson,” Carissa said, pointing to the plate. “Esther came over and helped me learn how to cook pork chops and gravy. I hope you like them.”

“Is there any bread?” he asked.

She nodded and returned to the kitchen. Malcolm hated her hovering over him. He hated most everything about her these days. She was trying overly hard to be sweet and it irritated him to no end.