Ever My Love: A Saga of Slavery and Deliverance (The Plantation Series Book 2) (31 page)

He could give her that.

Yves’ father came in the house, his hair wet from cleaning
up at the well. “Another day, I think we’ll have it.” He sat next to Yves on
the bench and held his hands out for Dupree. “Come here, little fellow.” It was
no surprise to Yves that Papa loved children. He knew every child in the
quarters by name, even kept candy in his pockets for them. And contrary to the
habits of many planters, Papa had not fathered any of the slave children on his
plantation.

And yet Papa had slaves. He loved his father, and in all
else, he admired him. As a child of the Louisiana plantation culture, Yves
understood building one’s life around slave-holding – but he could not respect
it.

Bertrand put DuPree back on his feet. “Miss Marianne, how is
your patient? Think he could ride in the wagon day after tomorrow?”

Their last day with Ginny, Marianne made up her mind. She
would speak to Luke and Pearl first, and then approach Ginny with her plan.

That Ginny appreciated Luke was a given. Once he’d helped
her with the honey-gathering, she thought “Caleb” was a gem of a man. And she
doted on DuPree.

As for Pearl, she spent a lot of her working day in the
field hoeing weeds and picking off blighted leaves. No one told her to, no one
expected her to. She just did it. Twice, Marianne had seen Ginny and Pearl
coming in from the field with the hoes and a basket of beans or squash. They
talked. Both of them, not just Ginny telling Pearl this or that. They had a
real give and take.

Ginny will want them to stay. But what did Luke and Pearl
want? Luke was a runner. A discontent. Could he be happy here?

Marianne had already succeeded with her other plan. As
subtly as she could without actually mentioning that she had her eye on a
different Chamard, she’d assured Simone she was not after her beloved Gabriel.
The two belles began to build a friendship. In earlier years, they had been
acquaintances, of course. Their parents’ plantations were not so far apart,
their parents knew each other, and in town during the season, they often
attended the same teas, balls, and concerts. They’d each had their own set,
however, and had never cultivated a more intimate acquaintance.

Now they delighted in one another’s company. They knew so
many of the same people, they’d read some of the same books, seen some of the
same plays, and taken care of the same man.

While the men rebuilt the wagon, and Ginny and Pearl saw to
the gardening, Marianne tutored Simone in how to take care of Gabriel’s foot.

 “Be as matter-of-fact as you can,” she said. “Like removing
a splinter from his finger.”

“I’ll try,” Simone said.

Marianne hesitated. “Is it repugnant to you?”

“Nothing about Gabriel could ever be repugnant to me. I’m
just a little scared, I think.”

Marianne took Simone outside to prepare her for what she
would see. She picked up a twig, and in a sandy patch she scratched a sketch of
the human foot. She pointed out the arrangement of the bones, at least as well
as she remembered them from her medical books, and demonstrated how the toes
had been “removed.” By the time Marianne took her inside and showed her how to
unwrap the injury, Simone was ready.

“Miss Marianne and I can manage,” Gabriel said.

Simone stuck her hands on her hips. “You think I’m useless
and soft? You belong to me, Gabriel Chamard, and I am going to take care of
you.”

And she did. She cleaned the wound and rebandaged it,
Gabriel watching her silently all the while. When Simone had made the last tie
of the white strips from her petticoat, she met Gabriel’s gaze.

Marianne suddenly felt very unnecessary. Gabriel’s dark eyes
practically smoldered, and Simone seemed to be having trouble breathing. She
left them quietly and closed the door behind her. Goodness, she thought, a hand
over her breast. If anyone ever looks at me like that, I hope we’ll already
have a wedding behind us!

The object of her fantasies walked into the house, and she
blushed guiltily.

“What’s wrong?” Yves said, stopping in mid-stride.

Now she felt the heat in her face double, and she had
trouble meeting his eyes. “Nothing at all. It’s just hot in here.”

“You know,” Yves said, walking slowly to her, never taking
his eyes from hers, “there are no grande dames of Society here.” He shifted his
gaze to the buttons at her neck. With one finger, he touched Marianne’s topmost
button. “You could open your neckline, just a bit.”

His voice was soft, low, reasonable. Mesmerizing.

He took her hand. Without asking leave, he unbuttoned her
cuff and began to roll the sleeve back ever so slowly. She watched his fingers
deftly handling the fabric, barely touching her. Then he did the other sleeve,
only this time he allowed himself to feel her naked skin. No one had ever
touched her there, on her inner forearm. He stroked the flesh, and she
shivered, goose bumps following the path of his finger.

She expected him to smile, to tease, but he was as solemn as
she. He moved his hands to her throat. Unbuttoned the first button. Opened the
bodice as far as one unbuttoning could afford. She didn’t move. He opened the
next button.

He was so close, yet he stepped just a little closer and blew
against her heated skin, right below her collar bones. She shivered again, and
still she waited.

Yves’ eyes were on her breasts. He sees what he’s done to
me. If he touches me there… He lowered his head and kissed the skin he had
exposed. Too many buttons. She raised her chin, opening her throat to him.

His lips were under her jaw, behind her ear, on her cheeks –
at last, on her mouth. She met his lips with hers, as hot as his own, as eager
as his. She slipped her arms around him, feeling the heat in him. His back was
broad, hard, and she wanted to –

His hand cupped her breast. His thumb grazed her nipple, and
she felt her knees quake.

“Yves?” she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her
hair.

“You forget what you come in for, Mr. Yves?” Valentine
stepped into the house.

Marianne jumped, but Yves kept her close. “I need to talk to
you,” he said into her ear.

He took a deep breath and let her go. “I was to find Ginny’s
lard can.”

“Yes, sir,” Valentine answered in a hearty voice. “We need
the lard can out there. You find it?”

Marianne walked over to the shelves on the wall and picked
up the white enameled can. Yves touched her fingers as she held it out to him.

“Those axles waiting for us, M’sieu.”

Yves looked at her, oddly she thought, and followed
Valentine outside.

Still weak-kneed, Marianne lowered herself into a chair.
He’s going to ask me to marry him. His kisses, his hand actually on her breast
-- hadn’t he as much as announced his intentions? Lindsay Morgan never
suggested anything remotely as intense or as intimate between them as what she
had with Yves. He was not toying with her as he had with those other girls, she
was sure of that.

I’m going to say yes. Staring out the window, she watched a
bluebird take flight, her heart soaring with it. I’m going to marry Yves
Chamard.

After supper, Marianne walked out to the shed where Luke and
Pearl shared a bench, watching the trees prick the orange disc of the sun.
DuPree, straddling Luke’s knee, cackled every time Luke bobbed his leg up and
down.

Marianne sat on the stool. She was about to make a
proposition that would change their lives. “I’ve been thinking,” she said.

“Yes’m?”

“This could be a good place.”

“Yes’m, it could.”

“Miss Ginny doesn’t have any family anywhere, and she needs
help. What if you and Pearl stayed here?”

Pearl grabbed Luke’s hand.

“But, Luke,” Marianne continued, “I do not want to leave
Pearl here unless you plan to stay with her. She would be better off, she and
Dupree, at home with me than here without you.”

Marianne waited while they communicated through their
clasped hands, through their eyes.

Pearl turned yearning eyes to Marianne. “We could stay on
dis place? Me and Luke and DuPree?”

Marianne nodded. She met Luke’s appraising gaze. “If you’re
through with running.”

DuPree sat on his knee spitting bubbly drool, and Luke
looked at Pearl, the woman who had his heart, a long time. Then he looked to
the woman who owned his body.

“You giving us to her? Miss Ginny be our new owner?”

Marianne shook her head. “My idea is that if you’ll stay
here and take care of Miss Ginny the rest of her life, she’ll make the place
over to you.”

Luke’s proud face swelled about the eyes. “You do dat fo
us?”

“I tole you she different,” Pearl said.

Marianne was embarrassed. “If Miss Ginny agrees, yes.”

Pearl stood up. “I go get her.” She put a hand on Luke.
“Yes? You gone do dis? You stay wid me?”

“Yeah, Baby,” he said, his voice full of hope and tears. “I
stay here wid you and DuPree.”

Pearl ran two steps, ran back and hugged Marianne, and then
rushed off to find Ginny. She brought the old woman back, nearly dragging her
by the arm. “Luke, let Miss Ginny sit dere. You let her have DuPree, too.”

Ginny settled DuPree in her lap and leaned back against the
wall of the shed. “All right. I’m here. So what’s got this gal all fired up?”

“I have a proposal for you, Miss Ginny.” Marianne outlined
how Ginny needed Luke, and Luke and Pearl needed a place of their own.

Ginny pondered, her chin resting on DuPree’s sleepy head.
“It would be legal, what you’re saying?”

“As legal as I know how to make it.”

Ginny absently patted DuPree’s tummy and looked hard at
Luke. “That other Caleb, he’s leaving. You want to stay?”

“Yes’m. I make the place good again. I got no reason to run,
de farm gone be mine someday.”

Ginny grunted. “Get more work out of you than the other
Caleb, anyway, his foot being half gone.” Ginny stood up and handed DuPree to
his mama. “Well then, that’s what we’ll do.”

Leaving Pearl and Luke to contemplate a future they could
only have dreamed of, Marianne and Miss Ginny walked back to the house. Yves
sat in a chair leaned against the porch wall. The old woman went inside, but
Marianne sat down on the stoop. “How about a walk?” Yves said. “I found a pond
back in the woods. I’ll teach you how to skip a stone.”

Marianne tilted her head, holding back a smile. “I know how
to skip a stone.”

“Nah. You throw like a girl.” He came down off the porch and
they fell into step.

“The wagon ready for tomorrow?”

Yves nodded. “Gabe says if he rides with his foot on a pile
of straw, he’ll be fine.”

They walked close together on the over grown wagon path,
their hands occasionally brushing. He’ll take my hand, she thought. We’ll walk
together, like people who belong to each other. When he stepped away six
inches, she was disappointed. Should I reach over and take his? She couldn’t
imagine being so bold.

He held a branch back for her, then fell into step again.
“What was that all about back there?”

“With Miss Ginny?” She stopped walking, feeling proud, and
explained. “I’m giving Pearl and Luke their freedom. They’re going to stay on,
take care of Miss Ginny and the farm. And someday it will be their own place.”

He frowned. “You did this on your own?”

“Why not on my own? There is no one else here with any claim
to Luke and Pearl.”

“You might have consulted with me. Or my father.”

“Why do you object to letting Pearl and Luke have their own
lives? You of all people.”

“I didn’t say I objected to their being free. I object,
Marianne, to your assuming your wishes make it so.”

Marianne crossed her arms and set her face to match the
severity in his. “I believe my wishes do make it so, on this occasion.”

“What you propose is illegal, and you know it.”

Why was he so upset? “Yes, it’s illegal to free them in
Louisiana, but we’re in Mississippi.”

Yves paced away and came back at her. “After the Dred Scott
decision, you can’t assume being in Mississippi will make any difference.
Manumission is illegal here too. You can’t do this. You’re putting your neck at
risk, and it’s not necessary.”

“It is necessary. Not for me, but for Luke and Pearl. This
is a perfect opportunity. No one at home knows Luke was found. I’ll say -- I
can say I left Pearl to help out Martha Madison.”

Yves’ frown turned into a scowl. “And when your father comes
home? And if the other slaves find out you let them go?”

“Why are we arguing about this? You don’t like slavery any
more than I do, and the way Joseph tells it, you risk the noose every time you
play the shepherd.”

“Risking my life is one thing. I can take care of myself.
But you’re a woman, and have your position to consider, your --.”

“This is about my being a woman? A woman can’t have
principles? A woman can’t stand up for what she believes?”

“I didn’t say that. But you have to live down here, in the
drawing rooms of New Orleans, among the planters up and down the river.”

“And that’s no different from you.”

He stopped arguing and looked at her. “No, it’s not the same
for me,” he said quietly. “I’m leaving Louisiana. I have a job waiting for me
in New York.”

“A job?”

“I’ve been writing for several newspapers up north.”

Why didn’t I know this about him? “But, you --.”

“It’s what I wanted to tell you. That I’m leaving. And to
explain. If Lincoln wins in November . . ."

He wasn’t going to ask her to marry him at all.

". . . some of the states will secede. We could be in a war
in a few months, Marianne. I’m not going to fight for slavery.”

Marianne stared at him, at those earnest hazel eyes. A man
of principle. A man of strength and purpose. A man who’d won her heart. Who had
touched her, whom she’d allowed to kiss her till she could hardly stand -- and
he had no intention of marrying her. She turned from him, feeling sick.