by Hines, Jerri
Mrs. Finnegan walked over and picked up Madeline. “If ya don’t mind me saying so, don’t worry yourself none, Mrs. Montgomery. The little one loves you. I’ve seen it before. She’s mad with ya, that’s all. Mark my word, it will pass and she’ll come around. But it may be best if you gave her a little space and start things first thing in the morning.”
Jo stared at the woman in disbelief. Her own child was mad at her! Madeline acted as if she hated her…hated her for abandoning her. What had she expected? Madeline had been ripped apart from her. What kind of mother was she!
Elizabeth walked back into the room. Looking at Jo with eyes filled with pity, she took Madeline back in her arms. “Again, I apologize, Josephine. Mother and I had discussed the best way to handle your return. It seems it wasn’t communicated to Cullen. This whole scene could have been avoided. Mrs. Finnegan is correct, though. Perhaps it is best we begin again in the morning.”
Jo made no more protests. She rose to her feet and made her way out into the hall. Leaning back against the wall, she clasped her hand over her mouth in dismay, heartbroken.
In the nursery, she heard Elizabeth tell Mrs. Finnegan it was time for Madeline’s nap.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mrs. Finnegan agreed. “Gonna take a good one after that scene. Poor little thing. So confused, probably wondering what is going on. Shame, just when she seems so settled now. Hope Miss Madeline don’t go and get sick again. Wonder if we could talk to the missus and see what we could do.”
Jo’s hand clutched her stomach. They were going to keep her daughter from her? No, no, they couldn’t! She refused to let them. She wiped back tears and straightened her dress. She had to talk with Cullen.
At the foot of the stairs, voices resonated out into the foyer from the parlor, clear and distinct voices.
“You are going to have to do something, Cullen. She is causing a scene upstairs with Madeline. She isn’t a fit mother. The poor child’s scared of her. Does that not tell you something? Oh, why did you have to go and marry her? You could have easily set her up in a small house somewhere and she could have visited the children if she wanted.”
“Mother, don’t! Jo has been through a lot, all of which has been my fault…it’s my responsibility to fix everything.”
“Gibberish! You served your country with honor while…”
“He didn’t have a choice, Monica,” Jonathan said. “We will make the best of it.”
“What do you mean he didn’t have a choice?”
“Mother, if you must know, Hugh was set to marry her if I didn’t. If it wasn’t Hugh, it would have been someone else. Look at her. Some fool would step in to save a damsel in distress. I wasn’t about to let anyone raise…”
Jo heard Cullen’s voice fade off, but his meaning was clear. His son. He was not going to let anyone else raise his son!
“Oh, Cullen, does this not make my point more relevant? What kind of woman is she? One look at the boy and everyone will understand why you had to step in and marry her. Your poor cousin, to be deceived in such a manner! Oh, I don’t know how we are to slant this. Not only did the papers in Philadelphia speculate as to why she married you but everyone in Charleston is questioning her character!”
The papers? She had been in the papers? Oh, Heavens, what had they said about her? The clock struck three. Josephine stared at the door in front of her. She could not stand another minute in this house.
She wanted nothing more than to run blindly out the door, but her children…abruptly she stopped and stared in disbelief. Blinking, she took a second look.
A distinguish black gentleman stood in the hall, dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and black bow tie. He gestured for her to follow him.
Jo hesitated only a moment. Easing down the foyer, she glanced back over her shoulder. No one was around. Turning back to the man, she cried, “Heyward, is it truly you?”
“Yes, Miss Jo,” Heyward answered. Out of nowhere, he asked, “Would you like to go visit Ma…now?”
“Oh, yes, please. I would like that more than anything.”
* * * *
Heyward rode the streetcar on the front platform with the driver. It riled his blood. Colored people weren’t permitted to ride in the car, no matter how well-dressed, how much money they had, or how well-behaved.
He had learned over the last few months to control his temper about such matters. Ma said it would take time to change, but she didn’t understand how it irked him the way white folks looked down on him.
Since his return to Philadelphia, he had become a well-respected member of the community with the help of William Still. Still had helped him invest his money when he had first arrived in this city and had overseen it while he was away working for the Union army.
Mr. Jonathan Smythe had hired him as a clerk, which only served to further his aspirations. He had a son now to look after. He never wanted Tome to ever question his integrity.
His son…Tome. He would admit he had first fought the idea of taking Tome in as his own. He had enough to worry about. Having a family had been the furthest thing from his mind. For the last few years, he had been consumed by his need to expel his helplessness in Gillie’s death. She haunted his dreams…until he saw Tome. He swore he saw Gillie reflected in the young one’s eyes.
Did he believe that it had been Gillie who guided that poor soul to him? Foolish, he supposed. Foolishness he would never admit to. Yet, he took comfort in the thought.
Tome was officially his son. It had been simple enough. He claimed him as his own down at the courthouse when the small family arrived in Philadelphia. With Still’s help in finding a house to buy near his own family, Heyward began to feel a part of the world he now lived.
Moreover, the look on Ma’s face when she saw their new home would be etched in his memory forever. The modest whitewashed house had black shutters, flowerboxes in the windows, and a small wraparound porch. The garden in the back was big enough for Ma to grow her vegetables.
“Lordy! Lordy! Never thought I would live in a place like this. I thought my farm just right for me. I was so proud of it, but this…this is my home…home with my boy. My boy.”
Ma…After all these years…there were no ties that bound them anywhere but to family. He gave all the credit to his mother. She had struggled mightily to keep them together. He didn’t know how she had managed what she had. When he was sold off to the Montgomerys as a boy, he never thought he would ever see her again.
Life had fallen into a pleasant routine. Ma’s days were occupied with Tome, church, and the garden. She had already made so many friends. The Stills loved her. Many a night, he would come home and find they had guests for dinner. Ma would entertain them by sharing one story or another of her interesting life.
The war still raged in the South, but Heyward had already begun his life anew…until word came about Josephine. Lord, the woman was a thorn in his side! If it was not Gillie running to her beck and call, it was his mother.
Ma’s affection for the lady tore at him. When the news came that Miss Josephine’s children had arrived in Philadelphia without their mother, Ma was taken by surprise. Something wasn’t right and Ma was worried. Miss Jo would never abandon her children willingly.
Heyward knew the lady well enough to discern the truth behind his ma’s words. He also realized that Mr. Cullen wanted Percival out of South Carolina. He had been prepared to slip the child out of Magnolia Bluff if the need arose. It had been part of the mission.
Regardless of his feelings toward Miss Josephine, he had interceded with Mr. Smythe on his mother’s behalf and arranged for Ma to visit Miss Josephine’s children.
Mr. Smythe had kindly allowed a visit to soothe Ma’s fears, but it accomplished nothing, only escalated Ma’s uncertainties. The moment the little boy saw Ma, happiness exuded from his being. He ran up to Ma quick enough and hugged her soundly. The baby had been another issue. The young Miss Elizabeth had refused to let Ma even hold the little one and only allowed her a
brief moment to see her, to his mother’s chagrin.
“Lord Almighty, Heyward, did you see that…that youngest lady would have had me thrown out. Won’t let me around Miss Madeline, no matter that young Master Percival leaped into my arms. Acted like I was some type of leper. Don’t like her…not one bit.”
Heyward made no comment. That was the way it was up North. The uppity white folks. Not Mr. Smythe per se, but, definitely, Mrs. Smythe and her daughter, Miss Elizabeth. Neither had any patience for those they thought beneath them and colored people were well beneath them.
Shortly afterwards, he had begun to hear whispers at his work. Mrs. Smythe would drop by. From his office, he watched the husband and wife disagree. At one time, she had even slammed down a newspaper on his desk. Unable to make out fully what the arguments were about, he heard certain words: papers, it will come out, scandal.
Heyward confiscated the discarded newspaper. It hadn’t taken much to put together that they were discussing the mystery woman briefly mentioned in a paragraph on the folded back page. It was conjecture that the state department was holding a Southern woman in the Old Capitol Prison for suspicion of spying.
He realized that reporters reached for anything to make a story. Speculation abounded, but in the end the story seemed to die. The fear that it would become common knowledge that Miss Josephine had been in prison petrified Mrs. Smythe.
Heyward had been summoned to the Smythe house by Jonathan Smythe on his return from Washington. When he arrived this afternoon to meet with his employer, he heard Mrs. Smythe distinctly crying, “The speculation will turn into headlines. They will certainly label her a Jezebel!”
Voices echoed out into the foyer. It was then he saw Miss Josephine come down the stairs. She looked perplexed, bewildered, and hurt. There was no way she had avoided hearing the harsh words. A surge of pity swept through him for Miss Josephine.
He made a decisive decision…one he knew he would soon come to regret. He was not one to dismiss common sense…but it just wasn’t right.
Giving no thought to proprieties, he offered Miss Jo an opportunity to see his mother. She, in turn, followed him without question. Her only desire was to see her mammy.
Heyward directed Miss Jo to walk behind him as he led her from the streetcar stop. His house set three blocks over. Miss Jo made no complaints.
Opening up the gate to the walk, he motioned Miss Jo to the back of the house. He held no doubt of where Ma would be. Walking around the side of the house, Ma knelt in her garden, transplanting a lilac.
Ma looked up and her face beamed. “Miss Jo! Well, don’t just stand there, child. Come give your Miss Hazel a hug.”
Overcome with complete joy, Jo fell into her mammy’s arms and wept.
* * * *
Heyward walked through his front door, well aware that Mr. Cullen wouldn’t be long behind him. He had waited at the corner of the street until he spotted the Smythes’ carriage coming up the avenue.
Looking out the side window, Heyward saw Tome was playing with his friends in the neighbor’s yard. His attention turned to the voices coming from the kitchen. The women had not ceased talking since he had left them over an hour ago.
He had found he needed time alone to think. Miss Josephine’s appearance had brought back memories.
As he stood in the doorway, the two were so engrossed that neither noticed him. He watched them. With the greatest reluctance, he admitted a truth he had always known, but refused to acknowledge—the two women sincerely cared for each other.
“I feel so lost, Miss Hazel, like I’ve fallen down an abyss and can’t find my way out.” Jo heaved a tremulous sigh.
His mother sat back and took a sip of her tea. Reaching across the table, she squeezed Jo’s hand. “Now, Lordy, I would too if I was dealing with those women. I tried. I did. When the childlin’ first came. Went to that house. Heyward told me not to try. I understood why when I got there.”
“Elizabeth treated me the same and I’m Madeline’s mother.” Miss Josephine nodded. He saw her look over at his mother and smile. “Oh, Miss Hazel, I’ve missed you so.”
“I have thought of you often,” Ma said, but adding sorrowfully, “But it ain’t the same, Miss Jo. You had a need to see me this afternoon, but it can’t happen often, if at all.”
“You can’t mean that.” Jo looked dubiously at the older woman. “I need you.”
“Ya know I speak the truth. The world we knew is no more.”
Miss Jo’s face betrayed she readily understood. Society stood as a wall between them. Swallowing back her tears, Jo asked in a quivering voice, “What am I to do? I can endure no more. It haunts me…being locked up away from my children…my children…I—”
“Don’t, Miss Jo. Don’t go no further.” Miss Hazel heaved a sigh. “It ain’t right…to have kept you locked up that way, not able to see ya childlin’, for no reason.”
“It ain’t never been right to treat people like animals,” Heyward stated soundly and stepped into the room. “We have problems. The Smythes’ carriage is driving down the street.”
Miss Josephine lowered her gaze in a defeated manner.
His mother would have none of it. “Miss Jo, you look at your old mammy and listen carefully,” she said in a commanding voice. “Don’t ya ever give up those childlin’. Not now…not ever. Look at Heyward and me. I never, ever gave up hope.”
A hard knock on the front door interrupted the visit. Heyward went over to greet his uninvited guest. Opening up the entrance, it was as he had known. Mr. Cullen had come to collect his wife, none too happy by his expression.
Mr. Cullen waited until Heyward invited him inside, but he was unable to completely mask his temper. He asked in an icy voice, “Is my wife here?”
Ma would have none of it. Walking over to Heyward’s side, she exclaimed, “Why, Master Cullen, come in. Come in. Miss Jo and I were just finishing up tea. Now, sit right down there at the table and have a cup. You, too, Heyward.”
Heyward watched his reluctant guest make his way to the kitchen. He caught his mother’s arm. He had to know. In a low voice for only her ears, he asked, “Is it true? Did I hear Miss Josephine correctly when she first arrived?”
“What, Heyward?”
“Is Buck Haynes dead? Did Miss Josephine kill him?”
Chapter Ten
Josephine sat in a tomblike silence on the carriage ride back with Cullen. She wanted to be anywhere other than with him, but she had no choice. He had cast his net and she had been caught within.
No sooner than the carriage halted in front of his magnificent home, Cullen whisked her upstairs to a small, but elegant bedroom…on the other end of the corridor from the nursery and her children.
The room was painted a soothing blue with matching drapes and bedcovers. An armoire sat in the far corner across from the four-post bed. The furniture was mahogany with a couple of embroidered, cushioned highback chairs around a hand-carved accent table. A thick beige Persian rug with blue designs covered the wooden floor.
Despite the comforts of the room, it might as well have had bars on the windows. She felt it nothing more than the prison cell she had only been released from.
The door slammed. Cullen’s voice rang sharply in the room. “Little fool!”
She had had enough of being reprimanded for her actions. Turning her back to him, she walked to the window. Before she had time to push back the curtain, he whirled her around to face him, his anger fueled by her refusal to address him. “You can’t disappear in that manner! Is this your way of getting back at me? To embarrass me and my family?”
Her own ire sparked. “I thought you had already done so by marrying me!”
His face rigid, he released his grip and stared at her. “You are not ignorant, Josephine. You know as well as anyone proprieties have to be followed. You…you left with…”
“I know.” Jo raised her chin defiantly. “I am not a child to chastise. I had a deep need to see my mammy.”
“You are not in Charleston anymore. There are—”
“Stop,” she demanded. “I did not mean to embarrass you. It was not my intent, but if you insist. I’m sorry…I’m sorry I embarrassed you…I’m sorry that I married you…I was so wrong…ever so wrong. I had thought there was some semblance of feeling for what we had, but I was mistaken. I want to leave with my children. I want only my children.”
“It’s a little too late for that. You are in this marriage whether you want it or not. If you think for one minute—”
“You would allow another to raise your son? I believe you have made it unambiguously clear, but what of me? Tell me…tell me what you want me to do.”
“It is obvious that you overheard a conversation that was not meant for your ears,” he said hesitantly. “You’re right. I may have reacted to the situation, not thinking all the way through…”
“Through?” Her brows arched in a half frown. “You hate me, Cullen. Tell me what I’m supposed to do. I’m in a city that is unforgiving to a Southerner. I have no friends or family. My children, that are my life and the reason I agreed to this sham, have been ripped from me.”
“Don’t be overly dramatic. You are my wife, Josephine,” he pointed out. “You are acting as if you are being tortured. You have wealth and status. I’m certain in time you will adjust.”
“I don’t want wealth or status.” She buried her face in her hands. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I never have. I have done everything to protect my children and Magnolia Bluff. Everything. I have tried to live up to the expectations placed upon me…I have failed…”
“What could you have possibly done that would make you say something so foolish?”
“You don’t know…you don’t know what I have done.” Her hands shook; her voice faltered. Suddenly, she was reliving the moment back at Magnolia Bluff. “I didn’t know what else to do…he had Percival. I was so frightened he would hurt my son…I saw the gun on the ground…then he was lying on the ground…dead…I never wanted to leave my home…Andrew said I had to…I killed a man…”
