Her mother’s hand was so cold. She seemed to be fading away right in front of her family. She went through the motions of living—needlework in the parlor, eating meals in the dining room, responding when she was asked a question. But Alexandra could not think of a single conversation her mother had initiated since their arrival in Natchez. She remembered how much she had hoped coming home would help her mother cope with the grief, but nothing seemed to pierce the fog that surrounded her.
How Alexandra wished she could make things better. Would marriage to Lowell make a difference? She looked around surreptitiously for his familiar features, and her gaze locked with Dorcas Montgomery’s. She was reduced in an instant to the level of a child. She wanted to stick out her tongue at the woman or scrunch her face into an ugly expression. Instead, she smiled sweetly. The look on Dorcas’s face turned as sour as old milk. Alexandra’s smile widened. Keeping her composure had its benefits.
She turned her head in the other direction and wondered how she could have missed the fiery reddish-blond hair and broad shoulders of the man sitting at the far end of their pew. Jeremiah LeGrand was studying his Bible as if it held the answer to all of life’s difficulties. She could feel her nostrils flaring. Did he really believe what the pastor was saying? Apparently so.
He was quite the conundrum to her. He’d been so kind on the ride home in the carriage after the disaster at Lowell’s home, yet he had not hesitated to reprimand her when she’d been rude. And then in the Hugheses’ barn, for a moment she thought she saw attraction in his gaze. But when she’d tried to let him know she was receptive, he had retreated behind an impenetrable wall.
Her grandmother cleared her throat and shook her head at Alexandra. Chastened, the young woman returned her attention to the pulpit.
The pastor had apparently finished with the New Testament. “When Job heard he had lost all of his cattle and children, he mourned greatly, but he refused to turn from God. His wife told him he should, but Job held onto his faith, and even though he had to face many trials and doubts before God restored him, he was restored.” He flipped through the pages of his Bible. “The Bible says he was blessed to receive even more than he had lost, including livestock, three beautiful daughters, and seven sons.”
Alexandra wondered if God would return her to the prosperity, hope, and happiness she had once enjoyed. She didn’t see how it was possible. Not after what had happened at Lowell’s house. Neither he nor anyone else was going to want to marry her. She would probably end up an old maid living off Grand-mère’s generosity. Or maybe there was some old widower who would marry her in spite of the scandal. She shuddered at the thought and hoped things would not get that desperate.
Perhaps Uncle John and Aunt Patricia would give her some land like they had done for Tobias. But then how would she manage? She couldn’t imagine washing her own clothes, growing her own food, or even trying to keep her house clean. No, she needed to find a husband. Someone who would care for her and give her back the things she used to have.
“I think one of the lessons of Job is to trust God to have our best interests at heart. God sometimes allows us to be tested, but He is always there waiting for us to turn to Him. Once we do, He is faithful to deliver us.”
Alexandra considered the man’s words as he prayed to end the service. She followed her family out of the church, waving to Susannah and Judah. She was unable to get close enough to them to speak because of the crush of the people in the aisle.
Grand-mère took her time, making sure to stop and speak to anyone who was anyone.
Someone’s elbow dug into her side, nearly oversetting Alexandra, and a large hand wrapped around her waist.
“Excuse me.” She glanced up to see who had saved her from an embarrassing tumble. Jeremiah’s face was only inches from her own, causing her heart to flutter. Her breath caught, and for an instant, it seemed they were the only ones in the room. He smiled at her, showing those intriguing dimples, and her lips trembled into a weak smile. But then reality intruded. What must this man think of her? That she was always in need of rescuing? She pulled away from him. “Let me go.”
“Pardon me.” His hand fell away. “I was worried you would fall.”
Someone else jostled her, and Alexandra was pushed back against his broad chest with a soft oof. His hand captured her elbow, his arm warm across her back. Perhaps she did need someone to keep her safe. But why did his touch send her heart climbing up her throat?
Safe in the shelter of his strength, Alexandra allowed herself to be guided to the front door. She barely noticed when her grandmother stopped to speak to Governor Holmes, the affable man chosen by President Jefferson, when he was still in office, to govern the territory. Everyone said he would make a good governor if Mississippi ever gained statehood. She smiled and curtsied when Grand-mère introduced her. The governor bowed and turned to greet the man standing next to her. Her mind was too preoccupied with her reaction to Jeremiah’s closeness to pay attention to the conversation.
Another voice, one that sounded petulant in contrast to Jeremiah’s deep tones, called her name. Alexandra turned and felt her heart thump back into place. “Lowell, h–how are you doing?”
He looked as handsome as ever, and was that contrition she saw in his gaze? “I’m so glad to see you this morning. I’ve wanted to talk to you about what happened…you know, about what Dorcas said.”
Now her traveling heart moved further downward, apparently reaching toward her toes. She realized Jeremiah had stopped talking. She could feel both men’s gazes on her. Both listening intently. Alexandra licked her lips and raised her chin. “If you wanted to apologize for your boorish behavior in not defending my reputation, all you had to do was come to visit, something you’ve done any number of times since my arrival.” How amazing that she had managed to get all those words out without the slightest stumble.
Dorcas came out of the church then and walked toward them.
Not wanting to hear anything that woman had to say, Alexandra turned away…and met Jeremiah’s intense gaze. What was he thinking? Was he sympathetic to her dilemma? Or appalled at her outspokenness?
Her heart clenched at the possibility of his disapproval. Before he could confirm her worst fear, Alexandra hurried to her grandmother’s carriage. She’d better have her relatives send for the doctor. Something was definitely wrong with her heart.
Chapter 19
Sunday luncheon was an interminable affair. Alexandra pushed her food around on her plate while her grandmother relived every moment of the church service, including Alexandra’s tirade at Lowell Sheffield.
“You did very well, my dear.” The gray-haired woman pointed a finger at Alexandra. “You administered quite the set down. I don’t doubt that young man will come by before the day is over.”
Alexandra could not dredge up any excitement over the idea of entertaining Lowell. Why did she wish it was Jeremiah who would be coming to visit instead of Lowell? “You may be right, Grand-mère. But it’s amazing how little I care.”
Mama looked up at her rebellious tone. “Alexandra, whatever is wrong with you? You know what you must do.”
Now her mother wanted to rejoin them? And why did she have to align herself with Grand-mère? Why wouldn’t anyone take her part? Would she spend the rest of her life defending herself from attack? She pushed back from the table and swept out of the room before the tears could escape.
The door to her grandfather’s study beckoned. It had been a refuge when she was growing up, a place where she felt unconditional acceptance. Alexandra’s tears disappeared, replaced by a crushing weight. She was so weary, so drained.
She opened the study door and went in, her gaze traveling from the tall, book-filled shelves to her grandfather’s wide, walnut desk. It looked exactly as it had in her childhood. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear his deep voice barking orders for the day’s work. Walking to the nearest bookcase, she saw the worn cover of his Bible. She pulled the book out of
its place and went to a large leather chair near the cold fireplace, glad the room was warm enough that a fire was not necessary.
She slipped off her shoes and curled up in the chair, holding the large volume in her lap and wondering why it was not used more often by her relatives. She could not remember ever seeing Grand-mère read from a Bible. When Alexandra was a child, her mother had talked about her own parents’ faith. What had happened to make Grand-mère turn from the faith that had once sustained her? Or had she merely pretended to believe to appease Grandpapa?
She opened the Bible with a sigh. Perhaps things would have turned out differently if this book had not been tucked away in his study.
Isaiah, the prophet. Not a very good place to start. Maybe she could find the verses about comforting the mournful. Underlined words stayed her hand: “But Zion said, The Lord hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.”
The words resounded with her. If God really was there, He had forgotten all about her. But the underlining didn’t stop there.
“Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.”
The promise in the underlined verses was impossible to miss. She opened up her hand and looked at the palm. According to these words, God had written—no, engraved—her in the palms of His hands. A tear slipped down her cheek. Engraved in His hand. The truth was almost impossible to believe. Yet there it was. His answer to her complaint. God had not forgotten her after all.
Alexandra closed the book and slipped out of the chair to her knees. She steepled her hands and closed her eyes. Words seemed unnecessary as God’s love filled the silent room. Her heart, her very soul, writhed as she confessed her doubt and sin. Then it was gone, and she knew. Christ had interceded for her. With boundless love, He had given His best for her. His blood had washed away her sin. The wonder of His truth washed over her, and peace settled on her shoulders. Never again would she have to wonder if He cared. She knew it with every fiber of her being.
Alexandra would have spent the rest of the afternoon in her grandfather’s study if she hadn’t heard someone calling her name. She rose with a contented sigh. She was a different person than the one who had sought solace here. When she opened the door, she came face-to-face with Aunt Patricia.
“What on earth have you been doing, Alexandra?”
She glanced back over her shoulder before answering. “I was talking to God.”
A smile creased Aunt Patricia’s face. She gave Alexandra a hug. “What a perfect thing to do on the Sabbath.”
“I…I have been ignoring Him ever since Papa’s death. But today He got my attention in the most wonderful way. Did you know our names are engraved on His hand?”
Aunt Patricia laughed and hugged her again. “Of course. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Alexandra nodded. “Were you looking for me?”
“Oh my, yes.” Aunt Patricia stepped back. “I almost forgot. Young Sheffield has arrived as my mother predicted. He seems full of remorse and quite eager to see you.”
A shrug lifted Alexandra’s shoulders. “I am not sure he and I have anything to say to each other.”
“I know he must have hurt your feelings terribly, Alexandra, but you cannot hold a grudge against him, not when you have so recently been reminded of God’s grace. How many times do you think you have disappointed Him?”
Remorse filled her heart. “When you put it that way, I have to agree.” Now it was Alexandra’s turn to offer a hug. “It’s disconcerting how quickly I can forget what I just learned.”
“Yes, that is why we should seek out the company of other Christians. They help us stay accountable.”
Alexandra’s mouth turned up in a smile. “Thank you.”
“That’s quite all right, dear. Now go in there and visit that anxious young man.”
When she opened the door to the parlor, Lowell’s back was turned toward her. His head was bent as though he was depressed. She must have made some sound because he twisted around to face her.
She smiled, feeling God’s peace inside her as warm and bright as a candelabra. “I’m so glad to see you, Lowell.”
Chapter 20
The harvest is almost finished.” Jeremiah looked over the fields with satisfaction. The white bolls of cotton had been picked, and most of them had been ginned to separate the seeds from the usable fibers. He strode to a nearby barn and pulled open the wide doors, waiting for Judah to catch up to him.
“It’s hard for me to believe all you’ve managed to get done.” Judah’s voice was full of appreciation. “And it’s something I can never repay.”
Jeremiah rolled his eyes and flung a hand out to indicate the stacks of tightly packed bales. “We haven’t turned all this into money yet.”
“Jeremiah, Master Judah.” Oren, the slave who had been so valuable to him for the past several weeks, walked over to them. “We’s about to start piling the cotton into wagons.”
“That’s good.” Jeremiah smiled at the man. “You’ve done a great job. I’ve been telling Judah how much help you’ve been.”
“Yes.” Judah leaned against the wall. “I am so pleased with all the work you’ve done.”
A wide smile split the man’s face. He bent the upper part of his body in a partial bow. “Thank you, sir. I was worried ’bout things for a while, but Jeremiah here, he got things working real smooth. He’s been good to all us slaves. We would do anything for him, and you and the missus, o’ course.”
“Thank you, Oren. It was a real pleasure to work with you and the others.” Jeremiah could feel Judah’s surprised gaze on him. He shrugged. He hadn’t done anything miraculous, just treated the slaves like men instead of property. He supposed he’d earned their respect because he’d worked right alongside them, refusing to quit until the work was done. It had been a backbreaking but rewarding exercise. A part of him wished it was not over.
The sound of a wagon trundling toward them made Jeremiah step back. “How many loads do you think it will take, Oren?”
Oren looked at the wagon and then at the stacks of bales. “I guess we can get about a hun’erd bales to a load. And there’s the two wagons.” He squeezed his face tightly as he considered. “Mebbe three or four trips to town will do ’er.”
Jeremiah nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. It will take us half a day for each load, so we won’t be done until tomorrow or maybe Wednesday.” He turned to Judah. “What do you think about using the storehouse in the back of my new shipping office? That way we won’t be forced to sell to the first captain who offers us a price.”
Judah nodded. “A sound suggestion. What are you going to charge for storing the bales?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Jeremiah, I cannot continue letting you shoulder all of my responsibility. You’ve done more than I ever dreamed. It’s time to let me start repaying my debt.”
“I’ve been thinking about that….” Jeremiah let the words drift off.
“Don’t tell me.” Judah laughed so hard his shoulders shook. “You’ve got an idea.”
Jeremiah joined him. It felt good to laugh. To enjoy the bounty of this day.
Oren looked from one to the other of them, a tentative smile on his face.
It took a few moments, but the laughter finally came to an end. Jeremiah clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Yes, I do. But why don’t we let Oren get started working out here? I want to explain my idea to both you and Susannah at the same time.”
He gathered up the slaves who would load and transport the cotton, explaining what needed to be done before leaving Oren in charge. Then he and Judah walked back to the main house. “I cannot tell you how much I’ve enjoyed these days.”
“You are a different man from the one I knew in New Orleans.”
Jeremiah considered the statement as he helped Judah negotiate the ste
ps to the front porch. “I feel different, too. It’s almost like being closer to God to bring the crops to maturity and harvest them.”
The two men went inside and found Susannah in the parlor, cutting out squares for a quilt. She glanced up as they entered. “What are the pair of you up to? You look as though you’ve been involved in some mischief.”
Judah sat next to her on the sofa and leaned his crutches against the wall. “We were out checking the cotton, but Jeremiah says he has something he wants to talk to us about.”
Jeremiah went to the fireplace and held his hands out toward the dancing flames. He closed his eyes and prayed for the right words to explain his hopes to these friends. If they agreed, he believed things would go more smoothly for all three of them, but he wanted more than anything to follow God’s will. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the couple. “First of all, I’d like to say how much I appreciate your letting me work on the cotton harvest these past weeks. It has always been a dream of mine to farm, and you’ve helped me realize that dream.”
Judah opened his mouth, but Jeremiah forestalled him with a shake of his head. “I don’t want to get bogged down in compliments and comparisons this morning, so please hear me out. You did an excellent job getting the new office ready for business, Judah. I couldn’t believe how much you accomplished in such a short time. The apartment upstairs still needs work, but I think it could be made livable, even for a couple.”
He glanced toward his friends and let a smile bend his mouth upward. “I also purchased several acres behind the office that are currently vacant. My idea is to build a home on that property, one large enough to house the owner and his family. That way, he will be close to his family even when he’s working. I don’t think it will take long to build the house as there seems to be an abundance of capable workers in town. I am hoping it will be finished and the owner can take up residence before next autumn.”
Mississippi Brides Page 11
