The Sun Rises Over Seven Sisters

by M. L. Bullock

  That seemed a hundred years ago; now she sat in a mental asylum awaiting trial for attempted murder. I could hardly believe it!

  The weeks went by and shamefully I had not seen her once. How could I, after what she tried to do? That did not stop Docie from coming to see me. She demanded that I attend my mother, defend her, help her in some way. I refused. I did not know the devil she had become.

  But I had found a friend in Adam Iverson. One early evening, when I ventured out long enough to find needed toiletries, I ran into him on the sidewalk outside the boarding house. He was kind to me and offered to help me with my packages. I refused, of course, but he begged to take me to dinner. Overwhelmed with loneliness I accompanied him to a small dining room on the outskirts of town. He was flirtatious, as he had always been, but not too inappropriate. The following day he left a bouquet of flowers for me at the front desk, and I had spent much time with him since that first dinner. I had other visitors too. Jackson came a few times. He carefully let me know that it was Delilah who sent him. It was clear to me that she was the object of his true affection. I cared not, for I had my eye on Adam. He was strong, clever with his ideas and amiable enough. At least for a little while.

  But I did miss Delilah, and I was happy to hear that she got stronger every day. The slice on her leg had become infected, but she had recovered and was apparently anxious to see me. I couldn’t face her either. I made my apologies to the attorney and promised I would visit my cousin soon. I did not bother to inquire about my own legal status. How could I make a claim now when my only true witness to my parentage had gone mad?

  Imagine my surprise when Stokes showed up at my door. My mother had been released and was residing again at Seven Sisters, he told me in his loud, deep voice. Not only that, but a relative of mine, a Mrs. Torrence, requested my presence at the house. I considered calling Mr. Keene, as he had been gone only a few minutes, but I felt better about making this trip by myself. I left a message for Adam with Mrs. Shields, my landlady. I asked him to wait for my return at his shop. I would come see him soon. How could I involve any more innocent people in what could only be considered my family’s madness?

  Curious now, I collected my purse and followed Stokes to the carriage that would take me to the grand old house. Of course I knew the name, Olivia Torrence. She was Isla’s mother and my grandmother, but I had no knowledge of her involvement in our lives at any point up until now, and so naturally I was suspicious of her. If I learned anything from my mother, it was to be suspicious and to question the motives of everyone around me. Especially my mother’s.

  As the carriage pulled into the long driveway of Seven Sisters, I did not experience the wonder and happiness that I had the first time I made this journey. The white columns used to rise up like a welcoming temple in the promised land. Now the massive home seemed more like a mausoleum, for there was no one about. A massive mausoleum full of secrets and lies. There were only a few lights burning in the windows this evening. The dim light added to the solemnity I already felt. Whatever could Mrs. Torrence want with me? She had cast off my mother as a child; I could not hope for better, could I? Then the likely truth occurred to me: she wanted what all Beaumonts wanted—the return of their fortune. Like my mother, Mrs. Torrence pinned all her hopes on me to be the one who brought her the reward. I would disappoint her too because I knew nothing at all and had found nothing at all. Whatever treasure had been there, it was long gone now. Or hidden so carefully in the house or grounds that it would take ten lifetimes to recover it.

  To continue to seek it would be madness.

  I made my way into the house cautiously, as if someone or something would jump out at me any moment. I fully understood the phrase “on pins and needles” as I made my way from the open foyer to the ladies’ parlor. The first thing I saw was the pale face of my mother as she sailed toward me with a smile.

  “Mother? Why are you here?”

  Ignoring my question, she said gaily, “Here is my lovely daughter, Aunt.”

  I raised my eyebrows at both her greeting and her address of “Aunt.” I had always thought Olivia to be my grandmother, not my great-aunt. While my mother was animated and showering me with forced affection, the older woman hardly moved. She sat like a thin, tall statue in the largest chair in the ladies’ parlor.

  “Karah, this is your aunt and mine, Olivia Torrence.”

  “How did you get out, Mother? I thought you were to stand trial for what you did to us?” I didn’t bother with the formalities. We were not a formal family.

  “Yes, and little you did to help me! Imagine not helping your mother when she needed you the most! I sat in that jail with all those other women! No family. No friends. Barely any food at all. Do you know what I went through? The guards mistreated me—of course, men only want one thing. That’s all they think about. Like your father! You ungrateful—”

  Mrs. Torrence exclaimed, “Isla! That is enough! Sit down before I have Stokes tie you to a chair and gag you. You will contain yourself, or you can return to Holy Angels Sanitarium. Now, Miss Cottonwood, please have a seat here at the table.”

  I cast an angry look at my mother but took the seat across from her. How different the two women were in spirit, though they were very much alike in physical appearance. Olivia stood a near head taller than Mother. That I could tell even though she had not yet stood. They had similar etched features, like two lovely porcelain dolls, but they were made of ice, not porcelain. Olivia dressed more demurely than Isla, but she was older. Old enough to be Isla’s mother. I wondered again how this family tree ran.

  “You must have many questions for me, and I certainly have some for you.”

  I nodded but kept my mouth shut. It seemed better to collect information than share it, and I could do that only if I kept quiet. “Are you the daughter of Jeremiah Cottonwood?” Olivia asked.

  “I have been told all my life that I am.” I held my head high and stared daggers at my mother.

  “You have the look of the Cottonwoods. The wide mouth, the colorful cheeks. I would say that you could be.”

  “She most certainly is! Even Jeremiah acknowledged her.”

  “Yes, but the courts haven’t, have they? And your recent performance makes it less likely that they will. However, all is not lost yet.”

  “Truly? Tell us, Aunt. What do you have planned?” Isla smiled broadly as if she had been given a long-awaited gift.

  “I do not need your help in establishing Karah. You leave that to me.”

  “She is my daughter!”

  “Unfortunately for her. But she is not yours to worry over anymore, Isla. She is my ward and in my care until she is established. The only thing you can bring her is shame and notoriety. Imagine working as an actress! What were you thinking?”

  Isla stood up and slung the chair back. It made a scraping sound as it slid across the floor. “I did what I had to do! You cannot keep me from my only child.”

  Without standing or arguing, Aunt Olivia rang the bell beside her. Stokes came immediately. “Please escort my niece to her room and make sure she stays there until I summon her,” Aunt Olivia said coolly.

  “You cannot imprison me, Olivia! I will not have it.”

  “You have nothing to say about it. Now go peaceably, or Stokes can pick you up and carry you. Whichever you prefer.” With an angry scowl, Isla did as she was told. It was likely the first time in her life she had obeyed anyone. It was certainly the first time I had ever witnessed such a thing. Even Uncle David had not been able to command such obedience. I immediately feared and liked my great-aunt.

  “Will you imprison me as well?”

  Olivia poured me a cup of tea and slid it to me. “Come. Let us put the knives away. As the daughter of a madwoman, you will appreciate the honest truth.”

  I sipped my tea nervously and said, “If you knew she was mad, why did you leave me with her? Why have I never met you, Aunt Olivia?”

  She toyed with a sugar cube as if she weren’t
sure what to say to me. With slender fingers she tossed the cube into the lukewarm tea and stirred it with a golden spoon. “She was Louis’ daughter. Who was I to interfere? If he wanted to leave her in a girls’ home or send her overseas, I had nothing to do with it. If it pleased him to tell everyone that she was my bastard daughter, then that was fine too. Nobody who knew me believed his stories. Louis was one to tell tales. He and Christine were both such dreamers. I was the practical one. I married a practical man and have lived a very respectable life, all told. It wasn’t until I learned what Louis had done with our fortunes that I decided I must do something.”

  “I see. You gave no thought for me at all until your fortune became involved…”

  “This will be the last time I remind you, put the knives away, girl. You are no match for me, and I will not be swayed by your insults. Do nothing foolish; I am the only one who can help you.”

  “Really? You want to help me now?” I swallowed the anger and resentment that began to brew within me. “How do you propose to do that?”

  She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment. I watched and waited to see what would happen next.

  “When I met my husband, Louis practically disowned me. If it weren’t for our mother, God rest her soul, I am sure he would have. You see, he was the son, the heir to all our fortunes, but he was not a wise man. He arranged for Christine to marry Jeremiah, knowing full well that she loved another.”

  “The doctor?”

  “I see you know your family history. Yes, the doctor.” She opened her eyes and smiled, but not at me. She was thinking about something. “Louis loved Christine and me, but he was easily influenced. He wouldn’t think twice if he needed to use you for something. And as we all loved him so much, we tolerated him.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked her.

  She seemed not to hear me. She stood, walked to the French door and stared out of it. “He cared for Jeremiah, in his way, but he did not love him the way Jeremiah wanted him to. So he gave Jeremiah the next best thing. He gave him Christine. I told our mother all about it. I begged her to stop the marriage, to save Christine, but she believed Louis. Louis thought it would be a good match. The two most powerful houses together, joining their bloodlines and their wealth to establish a dynasty. He had such dreams and hopes.”

  “But Jeremiah didn’t love Christine. He loved Louis. He treated her badly and swore at her in my presence. My own husband tried to stop the marriage, but to no avail. I knew nothing but disaster would come of it.” She sat down again. Sitting up straight, her arms on the armrests, she looked like a beautiful queen, a tired old queen reflecting on her life on the last day of it. “Then the gossipers came. Jeremiah was burning through the money. He made poor investments, spent money on new slaves, the kind he liked, and God knows what else. He was a devil of a man.

  “At that time, I went to Isaiah, Jeremiah’s brother, and pleaded with him to intercede. I told him about the love his brother had for Louis. I told him Jeremiah would ruin us both, but he laughed in my face. He told me to stop interfering in my sister’s marriage. If she wasn’t complaining, who was I to do so? I almost believed him, but I went to Christine. She confessed to me her love for Hoyt Page. What could I do? Mother died, and there was no one left who could influence Louis to do what was right. Soon he began traveling to New Orleans, and for a time, I thought he fell in love. Unfortunately, she was a whore. Imagine how I greeted her when he brought her to our family home. I turned her out before she could put her feet up. How he hated me for that!”

  She sighed sadly and straightened her dress. “After that, he had nothing for me. No more brotherly love. We were estranged. I stayed out of his business and tried my best to salvage whatever was left of the family fortune. Then your mother came here. She made things worse. She got pregnant with you and complicated things even more. Somewhere, she says, there is a codicil that names you as sole heir to Seven Sisters and the other Cottonwood properties. Without it, everything will go to Isaiah, Jeremiah’s hateful brother. Now my sister is dead, my brother is dead, and I am left to clean this mess up! How cruel fate can be!”

  She slammed her fists down on the table, causing the candles to flicker in their heavy brass holders. It was the most emotional thing I had seen her do.

  “Fortunately, niece, my husband has a great amount of influence in the government of Alabama. One stroke of his pen, and he can make you legitimate. You will inherit Seven Sisters, as the late Mr. Cottonwood wished. You will have your own money, so you can live comfortably. And best of all, your mother will not be around to steal it from you. I plan on taking her back to north Alabama when I leave, provided you agree to my terms.”

  My mind swam at what she offered me. I would be legitimate—at least legally. I could be free from my mother’s shadow and her ever-reaching hands. I knew there must be a catch.

  “Why would you do this for me? I know there is a reason. Please do me the courtesy of telling me what that reason is, madam. I deserve to know the truth.”

  “You will allow my investigators to locate my missing property. If they are unable to do so, you will sell whatever lands and assets you possess to provide me with the return of the Beaumont money. Minus this house, of course. I would not dream of claiming your family home. And one last thing. You will testify against Miss Page and refuse to recognize her as your relative. Neither she nor her sister, if she should reappear later, will have any claim on this place or the Beaumont fortune.”

  I shot to my feet, boiling with anger. How dare she demand anything at all! Of all my so-called family, only Delilah had been kind to me. In fact, she loved me. That much I knew, even though I had not been as kind to her recently. I felt even more ashamed that I had not seen her or spoken to her in weeks. “You cannot demand such a thing. Why would I renounce the only family I have for your gain? You ask too much. I am nothing without loyalty.”

  Olivia rose to her feet, but her voice stayed calm and cool. “If you want my assistance, those are the terms. I have everything I need with me. We can visit the courthouse to see the judge whenever you like. Think what this could mean for you, girl. Think about yourself for a change. I will give you a day to think about it. If you refuse, then you will never see me again. And you will have no one to support you.”

  How was it that I could be denied love so frequently? Was I not worthy of love? I had not chosen to be born, and I had not chosen my parents. Yet, everyone rejected me again and again. Except Delilah. She alone had accepted me. Without her, I would have no family at all. I had not wanted this fortune, and I was not willing to pay the price that my mother and aunt apparently were. Such beauty. Such cold hearts.

  “I am glad to hear that you are taking my mother with you. I have long since known that she needed the care of someone skilled at managing her. I do hope you know what you are undertaking. As far as this house goes, I have no attachment to it. I do not care if you burn it to the ground. And as for my cousin, I will not deny her, either privately or publicly. She is the only family I have, and I will not disown her, even if it means I will be penniless. I would like to say it was pleasant to meet you, but it hasn’t been. Good day to you, Aunt Olivia. You promised me I would not see you again—it is a promise I hope you keep.” I swung my skirts out from under the table and walked toward the door.

  “Where are you going? Do you intend to walk back to the boarding house? How long do you think you will live on the change you have in that purse? I suppose you could earn a living on your back. Maybe that is a talent your mother can teach you.”

  I did not take her baiting. I walked into the foyer and out of the house. I could hear my mother screaming upstairs and feel my great-aunt’s cold eyes burning at my back. I kept walking. If I had to walk all night, I would.

  I would never go back. Not now. Not ever.

  Chapter Six—Carrie Jo

  I woke myself with a scream of pain. The contraction was so powerful that it took my breath away. I
had no doubt I was in labor. I had no time to dwell on what I had dreamed. No time to consider Olivia’s threats or Karah’s emotions. I reached out and suddenly remembered that Ashland wasn’t there. He had left early this morning to secure the Happy Go Lucky. Against all odds, Tropical Storm Jasmine was growing and heading our way. Catching my breath, I reached for my cell phone as I tried to sit up. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I gasped for air. Thankfully the pain eased and the muscles relaxed. I looked at my alarm clock, remembering somehow that I needed to time these contractions.

  “You can’t come now, baby. You have a few more weeks before you make your appearance. Stay inside where it’s safe.” My child did not respond as he usually did. He lay quiet and still. And that bothered me. “Hey! I know you hear me. Let Momma know you’re okay.” Still nothing. Not a kick. Not a punch. He—or she—was as still as…

  No, I’m not going there. The baby is fine. I am fine. Everything is going to be okay. Tears of panic welled up in my eyes. Everything would be okay, wouldn’t it? Only one way to find out. I was going to the hospital. I dressed as quickly as I could in a voluminous summer dress. As I slid it over my head, the next contraction hit me.

  “Agh!” I doubled over and managed to ease myself back on the bed. I looked at the clock. Five minutes. These were really far apart. I was in the early stages of labor. I gasped and focused on breathing. I swore at myself for not taking those Lamaze classes when I had the chance. Ashland wanted to go, but I thought it was dopey. I just wanted to get through it with as much dignity as I could and have a healthy baby. Breathing as calmly as I could—that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?—I waited for the pain to ease. When it finally let up, I slid my feet into my sandals and grabbed my overnight bag and purse. By the time I made it to the bottom of the stairs, nearly five minutes had passed. I sat in the foyer chair and waited for the next contraction. I grasped the corner of the table as the pain hit me again. It seemed stronger this time. Oh God! Should I call an ambulance? It would take me at least ten minutes to get to the hospital. There was no way I could drive. Knowing that Ashland probably wouldn’t have a signal out on the water, I called Detra Ann.