We hugged and I sang for him some more. I sang without wavering until the peaceful pale blue sky slowly faded to light orange and then a spectacular deep red. We made our way back to the mansion, hand in hand, under the midnight blue of the evening sky, by the light of the full moon.
No longer did I climb in bed depressed or melancholy. In fact, I became excited about each new day. I began to dream of better days to come. But my life was irrational, and Mammy did all she could to protect me from my own foreseeable mistakes.
“You mustn’t be leaving this room. Mrs. Arrington is sure to come upon you. And what will happen if she sees your condition?”
“Oh, Mammy, Eugenia has no interest in me. She hasn’t come in to my room in weeks and weeks. And if she does see me by chance, my dresses still cover my condition. Eugenia is so preoccupied with finding the whereabouts of Warren Stone that she pays me no mind, I’m certain of it. She goes off to Savannah every weekend without concern for me,” I said while I sat by the now opened windows brushing my long hair.
“Without concern for you?” she repeated in disbelief. “Mrs. Arrington is out looking for Mr. Stone all ’cause of you. You need to think straight.”
“Hattie, Jacob Thomas, and I are having harmless fun,” I replied, trying not to become flustered. “We have nothing to fear.”
Mammy took the brush from my hand, took hold of my chin, and made me look up at her. “Dear girl, you have everything to fear. If Mrs. Arrington finds out what we done, don’t know what she will do!”
I abruptly pushed her hand away and went back to brushing my hair.
“Everything will be fine. I said convincingly. “You need to trust me. Everything will be just fine.”
The depth of Mammy’s concern didn’t faze me, and I went to take out my doll and talk to her. Mammy stood about, but I continued to ignore her. Soon she became irritated and left without another word, for I wasn’t interested in the least, and she knew it.
That evening and nearly every evening thereafter, once the mansion was settled for the night and the doors to Eugenia rooms were locked, and Mammy and Hamilton blew out the lamp to their cabin, Hattie, Jacob Thomas, and I stole outside and played in the dark shadows of the night. When we weren’t running about in the woods with candles in hand, playing hide and seek, we were sitting by the river’s edge telling ghost stories. Sometimes we swore we saw our plantation’s ghosts hovering near, listening and watching us. Especially when we were near to the slave cemetery where Hattie’s relatives were buried, we swore we could see their spirits wander.
Jacob Thomas was frightened at first and clung to me with sheer terror, but as soon as he learned the spirits meant no harm, that they were there to watch over us, he calmed down and even decided to converse with them.
Jacob Thomas brought books out to read to his dead ancestors, leaning himself up against their tombstones, making himself comfortable. He had learned to read at an early age, thanks to Hattie. His favorites were Mother Goose rhymes.
Owls hooted up above the cemetery and below it, night creatures scurried around. When the night had no moon, we were a bit spooked at times, but Hattie and I dared to challenge our fright.
“Let’s go explore the Montgomery mansion,” she suggested one May evening. It was very late, nearly two in the morning, the time we usually wandered back to our beds.
I gasped at the thought and said no. I couldn’t bear to enter his place.
“Come, it will be fun,” she said, pulling my sleeve and nudging me on.
“It’s late and Jacob is tired,” I replied, tugging my arm away.
“We’ll put him to bed first and then go.”
“No, I don’t want to,” I protested.
She brought her candle up to my face.
“You’re scared. I can’t believe you’re scared!” she taunted.
“I am not! It’s just not fair to Jacob,” I stammered.
“Look, he’s already asleep,” she said, pointing down at him. He had rested on the ground by Helen’s grave and fallen asleep.
“We can’t leave him alone. What if he wakes and we’re not here?”
“We’ll hurry. Come on, let’s go,” Hattie insisted, and she led me along.
I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to be in Perry’s home, even if it had been long-since abandoned. That was where he lived with Myrna and his girls. And the memory of our one passionate night together remained, especially when the baby tumbled within me - our baby.
I couldn’t allow Hattie to think I was frightened or give her any other reason - the real reason I didn’t want to participate in the venture. So, I quietly followed along, dreading the approach to the Montgomery mansion.
In the daytime, the mansion appeared merely dilapidated, but at night it was ominous, and I hesitated before entering. Hattie had no patience for me and pushed me toward the door.
“Go on. The door isn’t locked.”
I slowly eased the door open as Hattie hovered behind me. We both stepped into the foyer and used our candlelight to look around.
The mansion was empty, with the exception of countless cobwebs that inhabited every corner of the ceilings. From the tornado last fall there was a hole above that had caused damage to the inside from the weather. Inside, the plaster from the once creamy walls had begun to peel, and the planks of the wood floors were now warped and covered with dirt and debris.
I felt sad, knowing how much Perry had loved his home, and of course his family. I recalled when Myrna died giving birth. The memory gave me chills.
“I want to go upstairs,” Hattie whispered, as if not wanting to wake Myrna Montgomery’s ghost.
“No!”
“I’m going. Stay here alone if you want. This is fun,” she said and started walking up the staircase. With each creak I shivered, then reluctantly agreed to follow her.
“Maybe we’ll see Myrna’s ghost,” Hattie said when we reached the balcony on the second floor. “You go into the east wing and I’ll go to the west wing. If you see her, the ghost of Myrna Montgomery, call for me.”
Perry’s bedroom was in the east wing. I gulped. Outside, the wind began to kick up and a gust blew in from the gaping hole in the ceiling. Our candles blew out. From behind, it sounded like footsteps were making their way down the hall. Then a door closed, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. I couldn’t see Hattie, although she was right in front of my face.
“Did you hear that?” I gasped. “I think someone is here!”
Hattie reached for my hands. “It can’t be. No one could live here.”
“We need to get out - hurry!”
Hand in hand we hugged the wall, scurrying along quickly until we felt the banister to the staircase. I led Hattie, clutching her hand.
“Slow down!”
A door slammed closed again, followed by footsteps. I quickened my pace, and just as we neared the bottom of the long staircase, Hattie lost her balance and tumbled past me.
“Hattie!” I cried. Once she landed, she let out a howl.
I was careful not to fall off the last remaining steps and got to her by following her cries.
“Hattie, are you hurt?”
“Help me up.”
I took hold of her and lifted, then painstakingly carried her toward the door. The wind had blown it wide open.
“I think my head’s bleeding,” she cried.
“There is someone here. Try! Try and walk. You can lean on me.”
It took what seemed like forever to get back to the cemetery at Sutton Hall where we’d left Jacob Thomas sleeping. The night had moved on, and now because Hattie couldn’t walk fast enough, we got back to Jacob Thomas too late.
Dawn was approaching and there was no sign of our brother. His book lay beside the tombstone but he was nowhere in sight. I sat Hattie down, out of breath and exhausted, and then wasted no time looking for Jacob.
“Stay put. Perhaps he went to bed. I’ll bet he is in the cabin. But I want to make certain.”
Hattie sat in Jacob’s place and waited while I set off. I hurried, my pace quick, as I wanted to check on him before Mammy and Hamilton woke. There was only a short amount of time before they would rise for the long day ahead.
Finally I got to the cabin and crept up the front porch and peeked in the window. Jacob’s bed was in clear sight, but he wasn’t there! Mammy and Hamilton were still asleep.
With my heart racing and a sudden feeling of panic, I sped back to the cemetery, calling for Jacob.
“Jacob Thomas, where are you?”
It wasn’t easy to run anymore, and I held my belly with my hands as cramps and sharp pains began.
“Jacob, where have you gone!”
I stopped to catch my breath, then moved on and scoured the area. I went into the woods and to our water hole and searched high and low throughout the forest.
“Jacob, Jacob!” I called over and over.
Exhausted, I fell to my knees and began to shake out of fear. Something terrible must have happened. I felt it in every part of my being. My hands began to shake; my stomach turned queasy.
I closed my eyes and composed myself and took a long breath. Then, as if in a dream turned into a nightmare, on impulse I walked to the river, somehow intuitively sensing the dreadful occurrence I was about to discover. I would never forgive myself for what had happened.
~ ~ ~
~ Thirty-two ~
Once again the heartrending weeping of a grieving mother who’d lost her child echoed throughout the mansion. Jacob’s untimely death, his drowning, stunned us all and left me so guilty I couldn’t face Mammy.
Eugenia was, surprisingly, considerate enough to allow Mammy to grieve with the family, as I suspected Eugenia had empathy for her. Regardless of how Eugenia felt about Jacob Thomas’s conception and the fact that he was the illegitimate son of her husband, he was an innocent little boy and didn’t deserve to die, just as Beatrice and Violet ought not to have died as children.
Eugenia of course learned of our antics, and I expected to be locked away once again. I welcomed the punishment. I hoped while I was locked away I would give birth early and die; even that wouldn’t be enough punishment for my negligence. I felt it was purely my fault that Jacob Thomas was dead.
Eugenia knew I would suffer more by having to face Mammy . . . face her grief and suffer along through it.
“She is out there crying over the boy’s grave. You go to her and stand beside her and recite the Lord’s Prayer,” Eugenia said. “Then come inside and write to your father. Write him and tell him of the drowning.”
I began to cry.
“You stop your pathetic crying this instant. It is your selfish ways that have that boy dead and buried. You only think of yourself!” she snapped.
“It’s not true!” I sobbed. “He was my brother. I never wanted anything bad to happen to him!”
We stood in the foyer. Hamilton had just come in inside out of the rain, along with Hattie. Hattie still had her gash bandaged, and her face was stricken and ailing from grief, not from her concussion.
“You have the devil in you, Amelia Arrington. All around should beware. No one is safe near the likes of you,” she said aloud and gave them a look of warning.
I ran past them. My heart ached so badly that I thought I could never feel whole again. And when I came upon Mammy lying on the freshly-dug muddy grave sobbing uncontrollably, I fell apart.
I landed beside her on my knees, allowing the rain to saturate me. I covered my face with my hands and wailed, then sobbed to Mammy how sorry I was.
“It ain’t no one’s fault, Miss Amelia,” she said, not lifting her head or opening her weary eyes. “God see to it that my boy came to him.”
“No, Mammy. It was the devil that made Jacob die. I carry the devil with me!”
Mammy sighed and dug her hands down into the mud and began to moan. Her anguish was unbearable. I crawled away to a spot beside a tree, bowed my head above my clasped hands, and began the Lord’s Prayer. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever. Amen.”
Within a few weeks, Mammy’s external grief ended. Her loss had aged her many years, and she no longer maintained a natural smile. It was forever gone. All I could do was beg for her forgiveness, and all she would tell me is that it wasn’t my doing. It was God’s plan was all.
Hattie and I spent ours days separate. Just as when Beatrice and Violet were buried, endless gloomy days of rain and fog besieged Sutton Hall, leaving the mansion cold, dark, dreary, and depressed. No one could keep warm, and there was little desire to take care of anything but the bare necessities of life. Even Eugenia fell into another bout of depression. She kept herself locked away, and I often believed I heard her crying. Especially after receiving Daddy’s letter, which she made me read aloud to all. His heavyhearted words were intended for Mammy exclusively, though he didn’t address it so.
“Amelia’s letter came, and I read it with great sorrow,” he wrote. “I pray that God keeps young Jacob in the arms of the angels.”
Hamilton did all he could to console Mammy. His large eyes revealed only sympathy and love for her, and his huge arms held her ever so gently as she sobbed onto his shoulder. Hattie was left in a state of shock. Without her little brother to care for, she wandered the plantation aimlessly, lost without him.
The burden of my anguish lay deep within me, and I cursed my existence every day. I forgot about the things in life that had once made me happy. I hadn’t thought of Patrick or Perry in some time.
I retreated to reading my Bible - as always, it was a safe refuge for me. It was what I turned to when all else failed me. All I could do was pray and pray, for when I strayed from my prayers, that was when terrible things happened around me.
After Jacob’s passing we all gathered for supper, and we prayed together and asked for God to see us through these troubled days. We prayed for Jacob, Beatrice, and Violet. We prayed that God would keep them safe in heaven. We prayed for God to watch over Patrick, and we prayed for Daddy to come home soon.
“Dear God, we need Thomas’s safe return. We are suffering without his judicious presence,” Eugenia prayed. “We are suffering without him. And with all your mighty powers, save all of us, and save Amelia from herself. Amen.”
Eugenia continually reminded me that the hunt was on for Warren.
“Plans have not changed. I want you gone. I pray every day for your disappearance.”
Her words always came at me like a knife straight to the heart. It hurt badly to be hated so much. I was left battered and bruised beyond belief, and I wished for my life to end, even before the baby’s birth. Three months more was too long to wait. However, time moves at its own pace, and a slow pace it was, especially when we received some unexpected visitors that turned our stale existence into a volatile situation. All thanks to Eugenia and her steadfast quest to find Warren Stone, all so he would take me away.
I returned from visiting with Jacob, reading at his gravesite his favorite stories, when up the road on horseback came three Confederate soldiers. I went up to the gallery and called for Eugenia.
“What is it?” she snapped, and as soon as she laid eyes on the gentlemen, she gave them a stilted greeting. “What brings you to Sutton Hall?”
The soldiers dismounted and approached Eugenia.
“Mrs. Thomas Arrington?” The older soldier asked. The other two stood by his side. The sight reminded me too much of my encounter with Confederate soldiers in Savannah the day Perry saved me from a terrible ordeal.
“Yes. What is it you want?”
The men gruffly pushed her aside and looked around. One man went to the right of the mansion and the other to the left.
“What is this all about?” Eugeni
a barked. “What business do you men have here?”
The older soldier, who I later learned was a Colonel Abner Smith, gave Eugenia a challenging stare.
“We got word that Colonel Warren Stone resides here.”
The other two men came back empty-handed and stood glaring at us.
“No, I don’t have a Warren Stone residing here at Sutton Hall!”
“Shall we go inside, Mrs. Arrington, so we can have a look for ourselves?”
Colonel Smith towered over Eugenia. He was very tall and stout, with a bushy moustache above his red lips. He was about Daddy’s age, I supposed, while the other two Confederates were no older than Warren. One of them had sandy blond hair with pale blue eyes, and the other was dark-haired and his eyes were kept hidden kept under his cap.
“You may not enter my home. I told you Warren Stone is not here!”
“Step aside, ma’am,” Colonel Smith insisted.
Hamilton heard the commotion and came around from the barn to see what the matter was. The one soldier continued to stare up at me. His blue eyes refused to move from my bosom. I became nervous and eased back inside to where Mammy was watching from the doorway.
“What they want?” she asked.
“They’re looking for Warren.”
“You keep that Negro back from us,” the dark-haired soldier called out and pointed his musket at Hamilton.
“Now, Corporal Byron, I’m sure Mrs. Arrington can control her Negroes. Isn’t that correct, Mrs. Arrington?” he asked disdainfully.
“Of course,” she snapped.
The man nodded. “The word about Savannah is you have been harboring Colonel Warren Stone here on your plantation.”
“I’m not harboring anyone. And if the colonel were here, what matter is it of yours?” Eugenia folded her arms defiantly over her large chest and scowled at him.
“The matter is that Colonel Stone is a deserter. And the Army of the Confederate States don’t allow no deserters to go unpunished.”
Eugenia didn’t know what to say. She appeared stunned.
Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy Page 26
