Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry) (18 page)

As she passed through the parlor, Angelina caught a glimpse
of her reflection in the gilded mirror over the fireplace. Her face seemed
distorted and odd—as if she should have recognized the person looking back, but
the sad countenance and droopy shoulders didn’t resemble the Angelina Raeford
she had always known. She paused and looked closely at her appearance, pinching
her cheeks for color, when suddenly, Edward’s distinctive laughter sliced
through the air, followed by Jessie’s cackle. Mabel’s voice joined in on the reverie
as a pot clanged against the sink.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the look on Angelina’s face when
Daddy caught her and Ben up at Palmetto Ridge!” Jessie giggled as she talked. Angelina
tiptoed through the dining room, carefully creeping around the corner to sneak
a peek into the kitchen. Jessie sat at the pine table, entertaining Edward, who
pretended to hang onto her every word, even though Angelina knew his mind was
on horses or business or getting his hands on Fairington. As usual, he looked
extraordinarily handsome in a black leather vest and white shirt. His eyes
gleamed as he listened to Jessie tell more, and when she laughed extra hard, he
grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. Angelina had never seen her sister
blush because of a man before, but there she sat, her cheeks flushing a dusty
rose and her head tilting down so that she gazed back at him with a downward
glance. Angelina felt the nausea surge through her body with a vengeance.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” Mabel said, spotting
Angelina behind the doorway. “We thought you’d forgotten about us. Jessie and
Edward were just filling me in on everything going on at Fairington. Said Ben’s
gone over to Middleton Farm to work with Isaac. And I hear Isabella’s got her
sights set on him.” Mabel smiled and winked at Angelina. “Why, they would make
a nice couple, don’t you think? I know his mama would’ve liked her.”

Edward rose to his feet while Jessie stayed frozen in her
seat. Angelina smiled at Mabel and then glared at her sister, wanting to reach
out and smack her good across the face. “Jessie, you always did know how to
tell a story, didn’t you?” Angelina asked, smiling sweetly.

“My dear,” Edward interrupted, “you’re looking lovely, as
usual.” He reached for her left hand, but she quickly hid it in the folds of
her skirt.

“Edward was just telling us about Almighty and how he’s
training him for the Carolina Challenge,” Jessie said, her ashen face turning
beet red. She sputtered over her words and then gave Angelina a nod, as though
she was accomplishing some clandestine mission. “And he’s gotta couple of other
horses he’s working too. Like Hallelujah and White Cloud.”

“Yes, I’m sure he does.” Angelina met his gaze and tried to
smile but felt her mouth form a hard line. It always made her cringe when he
looked at her with that smirk, as if he could see right through her petticoat.
“Mabel, I just came by to say hi, but I need to get on back to Fairington, so
I’ll come by for some of that pot roast next time, alright? Edward, you think I
could talk business with you a minute? I wanna hear about that new feed you’re
using on the horses.” She shot a look toward Jessie and shook her head, warning
her not to interfere. “Jessie, I’ll see you at home. Bye, now.”

She stomped outside, not even hearing Mabel’s reply. As soon
as she got to the steps of the front porch, Edward grabbed her hand. “Angelina.”
He looked at her ring finger, noticing where the diamond should be. “Do I take
this as a no?”

“You’re coming for supper tonight. I’ll let you know then,
like I said.”

“Good. ’Cause I’ve waited long enough—too long. And so has
Isaac Richardson.”

 “I don’t want to hear any more about Isaac Richardson
owning Ben’s land. He’s running that race after all, so how do you know he
won’t win?” Her eyes narrowed as she returned Edward’s stare. “Remember the
Promenade?”

His jaw flexed and a dark look came over him. “You sign
those papers tonight. Sam Turner and I have been chomping at the bit to get
this over and done with. We’ve made sure everything is good and legal, like you
asked.”

“Those are two words that will never describe you, Edward
Millhouse.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He grabbed her around the waist
and brought his mouth toward hers, but she pushed him away.

“And another thing,” she hissed, “I don’t like you sweet
talking Jessie into believing your charms and getting her to tell stories about
me and Ben. I won’t have you turning my own sister against me. I told you to
stay away from her.”

Suddenly, the dark look took on a sinister appearance that
was frightening. “Don’t tell me what to do, you hear?” He pushed her against
the side of the house and kissed her hard, so that she gasped for breath,
repulsed by his taste. She tried to pull away, but his fingers groped her neck,
keeping her face locked before him. Shame filled her to the core as he stopped
for a moment and stared at her like a trapped animal—she was sure Mabel was
watching, and Jessie too.

“Edward, stop. People can see.”

“Let ’em,” he growled. “I want them to know what’s mine.”

The clop of horse hooves prompted him to release his hold,
allowing her to wiggle away as a group of riders trotted down the street. She
felt the heat rush to her face at Isabella staring at them with wide eyes while
riding past on her dappled gray mare. Ben was next to her on Midnight Storm,
but he never looked in their direction. Instead, he kicked the stallion in the
sides and cantered toward town.

Ben stood outside Davis Supply & Co. with the blue
chambray shirt wrapped in brown paper, waiting for Isabella to finish her
shopping. He had decided not to fight her desire to buy him a gift, even if it
still felt like charity. He did need the shirt, and it would be nice to wear
something new on the day of the Challenge. But the pain of her making such a
fuss in front of the store clerk over the color of the shirt and how it
“enhanced the tone of his skin and eyes” made Ben wince. Sometimes her
silliness made him regret coming to Middleton after all.

A few people nodded to him as they passed, like Tom White,
the barber, and Phillip Mercer, the editor of the local newspaper, but Ben
wasn’t really in the mood to be friendly. He couldn’t stop thinking about
Edward touching Angelina in that cruel way—and in public, for everyone to see.
The dark memories of his mother came rushing back, bringing with it that horrible
taste of hatred in his mouth.
Lord, I know I’m supposed to forgive, but I
sure would like to teach that man a lesson,
Ben silently prayed. He stroked
Midnight Storm’s neck and gave the stallion a sugar cube. “Can’t wait to run
that race,” he whispered in its ear.

Isabella finally emerged from the store, weighed down with
four more parcels. “Oh, Ben, can you take these for me? I just spoke to Rebecca,
and she says I must get to the milliner and see the new hats on display. Please
say you’ll wait,” she said in a high-pitched baby voice, which she often used
on her father when she was in need of something. “I promise I won’t be long.”

“All right,” he said, with a sigh. “But I’m not standing
here anymore. I’m gonna take Midnight Storm for a walk.”

“A walk? Where to?” she asked, suddenly looking worried.

“Just around. I’ll meet you back here in a half hour. Otherwise,
you’re gonna have to ride yourself home, you hear?”

Her lower lip protruded slightly in a feigned pout. “You
don’t have to get angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” he said, suppressing a smile.

The pout disappeared as quickly as it had come, blending
into a bright smile to match his. “All right, then. I’ll see you later.” Rising
up on her tiptoes, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which brought a rush
of warmth through his face and neck.

“Isabella, I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.” She smiled again and waved as she scurried off
toward the direction of the millinery.

Ben shook his head and tucked the packages into his
saddlebag. “Come on boy,” he said to Midnight Storm. “Let’s take a little
promenade around town.” He led the horse down Main Street toward the Blue Ridge
Hotel, still thinking about Angelina. She was wearing her hair differently now.
Instead of the half-up, half-down style, she swept all of it back with a few
curls falling around her ears and at the nape of her neck.
Elegant
and
lovely
,
were words that came to his mind—words he had heard Mabel and some of the other
ladies in town use.

Ben hung his head, thinking about Edward and his dirty hands
touching Angelina—like a filthy pig wallowing on a piece of pure, white silk. Midnight
Storm’s hooves clopped against the cobblestones, keeping time with the beating
of Ben’s heart.
She can’t marry him, she just can’t!
he said to himself as
they rounded the corner and headed up Oak Street. He had looked into her eyes
and seen down into her heart. She couldn’t hide what he had witnessed. She was
the same Angel from his youth, the same girl who had professed her love for him
time and again. Somehow he had to stop her.

The oak-lined street provided a canopy of shade from the
heat of the afternoon sun. Ben walked aimlessly, allowing Midnight Storm to
stop every now and then and snatch a mouthful of grass from a lawn that hadn’t
been groomed. Most of the yards on this street were meticulously kept,
including trimmed boxwood hedges, azaleas, and ornamental flowerbeds, but there
were a few that were neglected and unkempt.

As they continued to walk, they came upon one of Ben’s
favorite houses in Laurel Grove. It belonged to Sam Turner, a local attorney
and solicitor, who often did work for Fairington. It was a large white plank
and stone Greek revival home with Corinthian columns and two covered porches,
one on either end of the house. It wasn’t as large as the Middleton mansion but
was more opulent in design and detail. Ben remembered his mother often gazing
at it on trips to town, admiring its beauty.
Perhaps I’ll remodel the
farmhouse to look like this,
he thought, studying the decorative trim
around the entranceway and the front door.
Wonder what Angelina would think?

A distinctive, bellowing laugh made Ben pause. He waited a
moment, and then heard two men’s voices. One was Sam Turner, and the other was
unmistakable—Ben knew that sound anywhere. It was Edward Millhouse. Suddenly,
the hair stood up on the back of his neck as the laugh resonated through the
air and zipped into Ben’s ear like an angry hornet.

“No more of that,” he scolded, as Midnight Storm yanked a
mouthful of grass from the Turner’s pristine lawn. He tied the stallion to a
lamppost and listened for more. “I’ll be just a minute,” he said in a hushed
tone. “You stay here and behave.” The stallion snorted and chewed without
making another sound. Ben patted its neck and then clenched his fists as he walked
toward the house.

The voices came from behind a row of tall boxwoods that
bordered one of the covered porches. As Ben got close, he scurried near the
azaleas, straining his ears. The two men were sitting under a large, white
wooden gazebo in the side lawn that was nestled under a shady live oak. They
rocked back and forth on white wooden rockers covered in blue and white
pinstripe cushions. A cloud of cigar smoke billowed around them, filling the
air with the scent of sweet-smelling tobacco—a smell that had never appealed to
Ben. Two large Boston ferns and three trailing spider plants provided a curtain
of privacy, giving them a false sense of protection from listening ears.

 “She says she’ll sign—tonight,” Edward said in an arrogant
tone. “I told her she had to agree before the Challenge or I was gonna sell to
Richardson.” He rocked extra hard as he puffed on his cigar, contemplating.
“It’s a shame that land never amounted to a hill of beans, but I am glad I held
onto it. It came in handy, huh?” He chuckled and wedged the cigar in the back
of his teeth. “Turns out, it’s gonna make me a nice profit.”

“Unless, if by some miracle, Ben wins that race,” Sam said.
“Then you’re gonna have a lot of explaining to do to your Charleston
creditors.”

“He can’t win—”

“People said the same thing about the Promenade. The man’s
got a way with horses. Only trainer in the county who can tame a wild
stallion,” Sam said, taking a long puff from his cigar. “The natural way, of
course.”

“He won’t win—I won’t let him,” Edward snapped, a little too
loudly. “I’ve had my eye on Fairington for years now, and once I get Jessie to
sign that power of attorney, it’s mine. I’ve got her eating out of the palm of
my hand. Fairington’s gonna bring a nice price once it hits the market. And the
horses, especially that gelding Angelina rides.”

“Eagle’s Wing?” Sam stopped his rocking and stared at
Edward. “Don’t tell me you plan on selling her horse?”

“I’m gonna sell it
all
,” Edward said. He hesitated a
moment and added, “I’ll give her one of my mares, or maybe let her ride White
Cloud. That is, if she behaves.”

There was a round of laughter, but Ben couldn’t hear any
more—he was numb from his head all the way down to the soles of his feet.
Forcing himself to move, he quickly slunk back toward Midnight Storm, imagining
his Uncle Bear Claw instructing him on how to maneuver with stealth, like an animal
in the wild that goes undetected. Then without further sound, Ben jumped on the
stallion and headed out of town toward Fairington, forgetting all about
Isabella and how she would be waiting for him at Davis Supply.

Angelina kicked her bedroom door closed, fell onto her bed,
and stared at the ceiling. Fire blazed from her eyes and ears at the memory of
Edward’s hands and mouth. Shame quickly followed, sweeping over her as she
thought of Ben. She knew he had seen, even though he acted like he hadn’t. Her
mind wandered back to the night of the engagement party, when he had defended
her from Edward’s evil advances. Angelina smiled for a moment, picturing Edward
wallowing in the dust in his nice three-piece suit after Ben socked him good in
the jaw.
But why hadn’t Ben done that today?
she wondered, feeling sadness
engulf her. If he really loved her, shouldn’t he have protected her like he did
before?

The image of Isabella’s wide-eyed expression made Angelina toss
the bed pillows to the floor. “Oh!” She flipped over to her stomach and
immediately saw the powder blue silk dress with ivory lace trim that Ella had
pressed and laid out so carefully. The fabric was creamy to the touch and the
color brought out the deep blue of her eyes and the blonde in her hair. It was
one of Angelina’s favorite dresses, but now it seemed hideous and old
fashioned. How could she wear this for Edward tonight after the way he behaved?
And how could she sign any sort of agreement with him?

“Lord!” she cried, rolling onto her back and staring up at
the ceiling once more. She imagined slipping into another world where she could
walk along the white plaster upside down without any problem whatsoever. “Lord,
there must be another way!” she wailed. “What am I gonna do?”

“Miss Angelina?” Ella rapped on the door and stuck her head
into the room. “You all right?”

“Yes,” Angelina said, trying to sound convincing.

“Well, okay, but Mr. Edward’ll be here soon. You want me to
do your hair?”

“No, I’ll fix it up myself.”

The door opened wide, and Ella stepped inside, examining the
bed pillows on the floor. “Child! I don’t know why you have to live in such a
mess, ’specially when I’ve spent all day cleanin’.”

“Ella,” Angelina said, still lost in her own world, “I need
your help.” She grabbed Ella’s hand and pulled her onto the bed. Even though
Ella was sharp and critical at times, Angelina knew she loved her. “I need you
to pray for me.”

“What is it, sugar?”

“I miss my mama,” Angelina sobbed, feeling the power behind
Ella’s bright, black eyes. “I need her! Why can’t she be here? Why did the Lord
have to take her?”

Ella wrapped her arms around Angelina and kissed her on top
of the head. “It was that sickness that took her away, you know that. But the
angels swooped down and brought her on home to Jesus,” she murmured, almost
like she was singing a song. Angelina wept, unable to contain the grief she
thought had been dealt with long ago. “Oh, child,” Ella said, rocking back and
forth as she held Angelina like a little girl. “Have a good cry, then you dry
those eyes ’fore your face looks a sight for Mr. Edward tonight.”

“You know I don’t wanna marry him,” Angelina said, crying
into Ella’s lap.

“Shh. I know that, and I always have—but it’s not him you’re
marryin’. It’s what he stands for, that’s what you’re marryin’.”

Angelina looked at her through a pool of salty tears.
“That’s a horrible thing to say.”

“I know it is, and it don’t make for a happy marriage neither,
so I guess I’m the one that has to tell ya. You sure do need someone else ’round
here tellin’ you the truth other than Mr. Ben. He’s the only one who’ll put you
in your place, and it makes you ’bout as mad as a wet hen.”

Angelina contemplated these words, knowing they were true.
“Maybe I did want Edward’s money before, but it means nothing to me now. I feel
like I’ve changed somehow, Ella. I don’t care about the things I used to
anymore. Not since Ben left for Middleton. I love Fairington and I always will,
but the thing I care about the most is him. And I know he’ll never be truly
happy until he gets his home back. That’s why I want to do what I can and get
it for him.”

“Why don’t you let Mr. Ben get his own home back? He’s a man
and needs to do things a man’s way. He don’t need a woman messin’ with his
business and bein’ his savior.” Ella gazed at her with those dark eyes that
glistened with warmth. “Don’t you believe he’s a man?”

“Of course I do,” Angelina replied, feigning shock.

“I don’t mean in
that
way,” Ella smirked, her eyes
twinkling now. “I mean a man who can run his own life, make his own way in the
world. Don’t you think the Lord’ll help Mr. Ben do that? He is His child.”

Angelina sniffed hard and wiped her tears with her sleeve.
“That would mean he’s gotta win that race next week.”

“What’s a race to the Good Lord? He raised up His son from
the dead on a Sundee. You don’t think He can help His child, Mr. Ben, win a
race on a Fridee? Is there anything too hard for the Lord?”

“No, ma’am, I reckon there isn’t.”

“You’ve gotta believe is all. I’ve seen Mr. Ben ride that
Midnight Storm, and you have too. Mr. Edward don’t have a way with horses the
way Mr. Ben does. It’s like he can talk to ’em, tell what they’re thinkin’.
Now, that’s a gift from God that the Lord’s gonna use. I don’t believe for a
minute that the Good Lord brought Mr. Ben all the way back here only to send
him on to somewhere else. No, I believe he’s supposed to settle down right here
in Laurel Grove. I believe his daddy gave him that land, and there ain’t
nothin’ Mr. Edward can do ’bout it. If he wants to pick a fight, he’s picked it
with the wrong person, ’cause the Lord Jesus Christ knows how to win every
single battle.”

Angelina sniffed again and squeezed Ella hard. “You make it
sound so easy.”

“It is easy, when you rest in Him. But it’s hard when you
try to fix things on your own.” She kissed Angelina on the head again and gave
her a firm pat on the back. “Stop tryin’ to fix Mr. Ben’s life. The Lord can
fix things up a whole lot better than you can.” She wiped Angelina’s face with
the edge of her apron and then stood and smoothed down her dress. “Now, I need
to get back to my cookin’. You need anything before I go?”

Angelina shook her head like a two year old. “No, ma’am.”

Ella lifted Angelina’s chin so that she was forced to look
into those dark eyes again. “I reckon Mr. Edward’s gonna go home angry
tonight—and with that ring in his pocket?” She waited for an answer, wearing
that sassy smile on her face that said,
I know the answer and don’t bother
saying anything different.
The strength in Ella’s expression reminded
Angelina of her mother and what she had witnessed all those years growing up at
Fairington. It was a strength that told her to follow her heart and let the
Lord take the lead. And it was the same strength she saw in Ben every time she
looked at him. There was a source of power there that drew upon something
buried deep inside her soul, connecting her to his heart.

At that moment, something clicked, like a key in a lock—a
decision was made—and it was as clear as day. Angelina smiled, and for the first
time in a very long time, she felt excitement and hope for the future. Her face
beamed, and she couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear. “I reckon he will,
Ella. He’s gonna be as mad as a wet hen.”

Ben pushed Midnight Storm down the dirt road that led to
Fairington, urging the stallion to run faster. He hadn’t been back to the farm
since the day he and Angelina had parted, and it seemed strange to be returning
now, especially under the circumstances. Normally he enjoyed taking in the
beauty of Fairington, with its old live oak trees, dogwoods, and azaleas, but
today he took no notice. He only wanted to get to Angelina.

“Well, hey there,” Billy said, smiling big as he moseyed out
of the barn and waved. “What brings you out here, Ben? You gettin’ tired of
Middleton already?”

Ben ignored his pleasantries and dismounted, handing the boy
his reins. “Billy, I need you to take the horse and hitch him for me, all
right? I need to talk to Miss Raeford. She home yet?”

“She is,” Billy said, looking confused. “Got here a little
while ago. She and Ella are up at the house, but Jessie’s still in town. You
want me to go fetch Tom so you can say hello? He and Mitchell are out yonder in
the field.”

“Tell him I need to talk,” Ben called back, heading toward
the house. “I’m going to speak to Miss Raeford now.”

As soon as he approached the kitchen door, Ella’s cheerful
smile was there to greet him. “Well, Mr. Ben! What a nice surprise. Me and Miss
Angel was just talkin’ ’bout you. Come on in and let me pour you a cup of coffee.
You want somethin’ to eat?”

“Thank you, Ella, but no,” he said, wiping his boots on the
mat. “I need to speak with Angelina if I may.”

“I’m sure she wants to speak with you too.” She winked at
him and gave a sly smile as she grabbed a coffee mug from the mug rack.

“No, Ella,” he said, latching hold of her wrist with a firm
grip. “This is important. It can’t wait.”

She hesitated a moment, staring into his eyes. “All right,”
she said calmly, despite the fear clouding her expression. “Is there somethin’
I oughta know ’bout?”

“No, ma’am. Not yet, at least.”

“Well then, I reckon I better go call her.” She untied her
apron and tossed it on the table. “You watch my soup,” she ordered, pointing to
the pot that simmered on the stove.

Ben nodded and then sat down, pulling his chair under the
pine breakfast table. He looked around the kitchen at the bright copper pots
hanging from the ceiling, the blue china plates on the oak sideboard, and the
yellow floral chintz at the windows. A memory flashed through his mind of
Angelina cuddled in her mama’s lap at this very seat while they read the Bible
together, and then of Angelina setting an apple pie on the window sill to cool,
only to have Ben swipe a hunk of the flaky crust. Anger crept out of that
bottomless pit where all his emotions were stored and encircled him, round and
round, bringing with it the urge to take his flint knife and plunge it deep
until there was nothing but death. He shook his head, trying to chase these
feelings away, but they clung to him like leeches from a swamp.
How could
he?
Ben thought.
How could Edward think of selling all of this?

The sound of horses approaching brought a chill in the air,
despite the heat. Ben peered out the window and saw Edward on Almighty, along
with Sam Turner and Mason, both on horseback. Edward spoke to Tom and Mitchell,
gesturing with his hands, while Billy tried his best to keep Midnight Storm
settled from the excitement of being around the other horses. Finally, Billy
pointed a finger at the house, and Edward quickly turned his head, looking at
Ben dead on. He dismounted, stomping his boots on the dry ground, and headed
toward the house.