Unforsaken (8 page)

She lay in the darkness, listening to the rain pattering against the windowpane, and found herself thinking of all the plans she'd made, waiting for Matthew's return. She begged him not to speak to her father, knowing the man would find some way to ruin everything, until the war was over and they could marry right away. After all, they were going to whip the Yankees in six weeks, and that wasn't such a long time to wait.

Pushing the painful memories aside, Olivia drew the sheet up to her chin and thought of all she had to do the next day. Finding a nurse would be difficult, especially without having everyone in the county know what she was about.

The arrangement wouldn't be permanent, and finding an older, experienced woman willing to uproot herself without a guarantee of longtime employment would be difficult. There was no other choice but to seek an older, mature woman if she was to live in Matthew's house for any length of time. A younger woman might get ideas about making the situation permanent, one way or another.

Indeed, Matthew was still considered quite the catch by postwar standards. He still had land and a home, and any scars he carried from the war were not visible. Many men had returned home to find their wives and sweethearts unable to accept the ghastly results of cannon fire and shrapnel.

Lightning flashed in the night sky and thunder boomed loud enough to rattle the windowpanes. Olivia turned away from the window and tried to go to sleep.

"Livvy?” Sarah's tiny voice came out of the darkness.

"Yes?"

"Can I sleep with you?"

She understood the little girls qualms only too well, and she threw back the covers and helped the child climb into her bed.

Sarah snuggled close and Olivia awkwardly gathered the little girl in her arms. “When I was a little girl I was so afraid of thunderstorms."

"Real ‘fraid?” Sarah asked in a hesitant whisper.

"Terrified. Sometimes I would hide under the bed.” Another clap of thunder rumbled, nearer than the last, and Sarah huddled closer to Olivia. “But we don't have to be afraid tonight."

"We don't?"

"No, we don't,” Olivia assured her. “You see, I learned that the thunder and lightning couldn't really hurt me as long as I was inside."

They lay silent for many moments, listening as the storm gained momentum and the rain pounded furiously at the window.

"Livvy?” Sarah whispered. “Did you have a mama?"

The question startled her, and she swallowed hard before answering, “Yes, I did."

"Did she go to heaven?"

"When I was twelve years old."

"My mama went to heaven,” Sarah told her, as if it was some terrible secret. “She won't ever come back."

"People can't come back when they go to heaven.” Olivia grappled for some way to change the subject. “Try not to think about—"

Sarah's fingers knotted in the sleeve of her nightgown, and a ragged breath escaped the little girl's lips. “B-but I don't
want
her to be in heaven."

"Oh, Sarah,” she whispered as the child buried her face against Olivia's shoulder. Hot tears dampened the thin fabric of her nightgown. “Your mama didn't want to go to heaven—"

Sarah sniffed “I want her to come back and take care of me so my daddy won't burd-ing."

Olivia thought for a moment. “You mean burdened?"

Sarah nodded. Olivia could only guess how many times the child had heard that whispered when no one thought she was listening. She remembered the spiteful things Eugenia Jennings had said today and wondered how Sarah had taken them. “Sarah, your father isn't burdened. He's just working hard to plant his cotton, and so are a lot of other men."

She was the last person on earth to be comforting this child, but she held Sarah close and rocked her, repeating what Matthew had told her so many years ago. “It's all right to cry, to be sad, to wish for things to be different."

Sarah nodded against her shoulder, her sobs quieting to deep, cleansing breaths. Olivia forced herself to say what this child needed to hear. “Your mother still loves you, Sarah. Even in heaven, she won't forget you or stop caring about you."

Sarah rubbed her eyes, absorbing Olivia's words. Settling back down under the covers, Olivia gathered the little girl in her arms and shuddered with guilt.

"Livvy,” Sarah whispered, “what's a orphan's home?"

Startled, Olivia was horrified to think someone dared to suggest Matthew place the child in an asylum. “An orphan's home is for children with no family or friends to take care of them. Your have your father, and he will see that you're taken care of."

Circling her arm around Olivia's neck, she said, “I got you too, Livvy."

Olivia closed her eyes. God help her, but she would find a nurse if she had to travel all the way to Richmond.

Chapter Seven

Dear Mrs. Murphy,

I am writing in hopes that you might be able to recommend a suitable governess for a family friend. The child, a girl, is three years old and remarkably well-behaved and bright. Experience and maturity are crucial, and I would prefer someone capable of tutoring in reading and music.

Please have all interested parties forward a resume along with any letters of recommendation available.

Sincerely,

Olivia Chandler

"Your daddy will be here any minute. Let's get your clothes changed."

Olivia helped Sarah out of her Sunday dress and slipped a simple muslin blouse over her head. The blue jumper and sturdy shoes were nice enough, but Sarah had looked darling in the dress she had worn to church. Eula insisted the child change into everyday clothes and be ready to leave when Matthew arrived.

"He won't want to be kept waiting,” she had insisted as she hurried them up the stairs. “Don't forget the hamper in the kitchen."

When the last button was secured, Olivia carefully brushed Sarah's hair and changed the ribbon to one that matched her jumper. Sarah peered in the mirror hanging over the dressing table and smiled with approval.

"You look very pretty,” Olivia assured her, smoothing one last curl into place. “Now, let's go wait for your daddy."

It wasn't long before a knock sounded at the front door, and Olivia managed a polite smile when she invited Matthew inside. “Sarah's all ready to go."

"Good,” he said as she closed the door behind him. “We won't have much time as it is."

She nodded and called for Sarah, who was tidying away her toys in the parlor.

"Daddy!” She rushed to him and he scooped her up in his arms.

"Are you ready, punkin'?"

She nodded, and Olivia almost forgot the hamper. “Oh, Aunt Eula packed a picnic for the two of you. Wait here."

When she returned with the basket, Sarah rushed to meet her.

"C'mon, Livvy!” The child caught hold of her hand and turned for the door. “Let's go! Let's go picnic!"

"I'm not going with you sweet—Sarah.” Handing the basket to Matthew, she resisted the urge to smooth the little girl's bangs out of her eyes and clasped her hands behind her back instead. “You and your father are going to spend the day together."

"There's no reason you can't join us. Is there?"

She raised her eyes to find Matthew studying her uncertainly, and she wished she could say she had other plans. Instead, she bit her lip and tried to think of a plausible excuse.

Sarah held tight to her hand. “Please, Livvy, please!"

She looked into the little pleading face and felt helpless. She hesitated before asking Matthew, “I wouldn't be intruding?"

His face softened with a grin. “Of course not."

Olivia had only visited Matthew's farm once, after his father had died, but she hadn't stayed long or even gone inside the house. Even so, there was no mistaking the maintenance that had gone undone—the paint on the house was faded, two shutters were missing and one upstairs window was boarded up.

"There was a storm last fall,” he explained. “A limb off that elm tree crashed right through the window."

"Oh, my,” she murmured. Olivia wondered if that room was his bedroom, but she didn't ask. “How frightening."

Sarah was delighted to be home. She scrambled down from the wagon and ran toward the back of the house. The yard was neat and bare, and Sarah ran toward a giant oak tree. “Look, Livvy, my swing!"

"She calls you Livvy?"

Matthew was right beside her, but she didn't look at him. She knew he was referring to the irony of his child using the same pet name he had so many years before but merely said, “I suppose it's easier than Olivia."

He crossed the yard and helped the little girl into the swing. With a gentle push he set the swing in motion, and Sarah held tight while the breeze tugged at the ribbons in her hair.

Olivia turned toward the porch and placed the hamper on the top step, taking in the almost spartan appearance of the place. There were no flowers planted anywhere, just a grassy expanse of yard leading to the tilled fields that surrounded the house on three sides. To the south was the sloping pasture behind the barn where the livestock grazed.

"Watch me, Livvy!” Sarah called impatiently, swinging higher. “Watch me!"

"I'm watching.” Olivia retraced her steps and bestowed her undivided attention on the child. “Be careful."

"I'm sorry I didn't have anything better planned for the afternoon. I thought it would be a good idea for her to spend some time at home.” Matthew paused, hesitantly adding, “I hope it wasn't improper to invite you here."

She was surprised at his concern, but then, they had both been brought up under the same strict code of what was and wasn't acceptable for a lady. “Oh, don't worry about me. Aunt Eula says one of the best things about being an old maid is not having a reputation to guard."

Olivia could have bitten off her tongue, but the words were out before she thought twice. Eula could joke about things like that and get away with it, but Olivia feared she sounded self-pitying. She forced a smile in spite of the look of dismay on his face.

"I didn't mean—” She wasn't sure how to apologize for the remark or if she even should. “There's nothing inappropriate about my being here with you and Sarah. In fact, I appreciate being included."

Sarah finally tired of the swing and gave Olivia a tour of the farm, introducing her to several barnyard animals. To her amusement, they all had names and knew when they were spoken to. As a child, pets of any kind were never allowed in her home, and Olivia declined the opportunity of petting a pig or shaking hands with a rooster.

Just inside the barn, Sarah cried out for Olivia. “Hurry, Livvy! Oh, look!” Olivia peered over the child's kneeling form to find a mama cat dutifully tending four tiny kittens. “Aren't they precious?"

The mother glanced up at the humans and meowed her agreement. Sarah whispered to the cat and gently stroked each baby. Olivia had never seen anything so tiny or helpless.

"Their eyes aren't even open,” she breathed, watching the kittens blindly grope for their mother. One baby turned in the wrong direction and wailed pitifully as he searched for the warmth and security of his mother.

Sarah carefully placed the frightened kitten at his mother's side and he quieted right away. The tour resumed, and Sarah led her through the vegetable garden to where the neat rows met the tilled expanse of the cotton fields.

Olivia glanced over her shoulder and asked Matthew, “How is the planting coming along?"

"Very well.” He moved to stand beside her and gaze out across the land. “Thanks to your help."

She was struck by the pride and reverence in his expression as he studied the sprawling land. The place meant so much to him, more than the worth of the land or the promise of a lucrative harvest, and it shamed her to know that she had been reluctant to help him.

He glanced down at her. “I'll never be able to thank you enough."

She looked away, uncertain how to respond. Instead, she let Sarah lead her back toward the house, calling for her daddy to follow. They spread a faded quilt on the porch and ate the picnic lunch. Olivia was glad to see that Maddy had packed twice as much as they could eat. She would leave the remainder for Matthew to have the next day.

When they had finished eating, Sarah lay with her head resting on Olivia's lap and drifted off to sleep. When she was sound asleep, Olivia eased the little girl onto the quilt and began repacking the food into the basket.

"Tom Jennings told me that you and his wife had quite a row the other day."

The statement shattered the companionable silence, and Olivia gaped at him, horrified to think what tales he'd heard, let alone Eugenia's insinuations regarding her motives for keeping Sarah. Straightening her shoulders, she did her best to sound disdainful. “I didn't realize men were such gossips."

"Tom's afraid you'll hold Eugenia's insults against him. He's barely making it, Olivia. It wouldn't take much to ruin him."

She got to her feet before he could stop her. “Tom Jennings wouldn't give a damn what his wife said to me if it weren't for the fact that I own the gin."

"And the mill, the store and the bank."

"I don't own the bank,” she snapped.

"You might as well. Old man Perkins doesn't want you moving your money, and he'd foreclose on his own mama if you wanted him to."

She only stared at him, wishing she could deny what he said. She had no intention of hurting Tom Jennings. He would get a fair price for his cotton, the same as everyone else. She wasn't, however, above letting him worry all summer long, dreading the moment he would pay the price for his wife's spitefulness. The relief he would feel would do nothing to warm his heart toward the woman who caused him so much grief.

The idea had been appealing to Olivia, until now, with Matthew looking at her with such reproach.

"Let me tell Tom there's nothing for him to worry about."

She whirled around, turning her back to him. “It would be most improper for you to speak on my behalf to anyone. The gin is my business, and I'll run it as I see fit."

She made her way down the steps, wishing she'd never come here with them. She eased into the old swing, surprised at how sturdy it felt, and stared down at the worn patch of ground at her feet.