“Jeremiah—I mean, Mr. LeGrand. It’s good to see you.”
He turned from her, and Alexandra’s heart plummeted. Did he despise her so? She had been very forward in going to his home. But what else could she have done? “Did you lose much in the fire?”
He twisted back to face her, and Alexandra’s gaze searched his expression for a clue to his feelings.
“No, thank God. Nothing that cannot be replaced.” His voice was rough. He cleared his throat. “I went to see Lowell and his father.”
Alexandra tipped her head to one side. “Why would you do that?”
“I wanted to make certain my home would be safe in the future.” A smile made the dimples in his cheeks appear. “I didn’t want you having to rush to my rescue again.”
“I didn’t do much.” Alexandra hid her blistered hands behind her skirt. “No more than anyone else would have done.”
He stepped toward her, a strange light in his eyes. “I don’t know anyone who would have been as brave as you were.”
The air seemed to leave the room in a rush. Alexandra put a hand to her chest. “You give me too much credit.”
“Alexandra, this is not what I came to talk about.”
She took a shallow breath. “It’s not?”
He shook his head and more hair fell across his forehead. “I…” His voice faltered.
Alexandra watched his throat work, wishing she could think of something to say to ease his discomfort. Was he going to apologize for embracing her? Or was some other matter troubling him?
“You may have heard about the changes at Magnolia Plantation.”
She nodded and watched him pace across the room before returning to stand in front of her.
“I have so many ideas I still want to implement, but I’ve realized lately I need help in doing that. A helpmeet who shares my enthusiasm for reaching out to others.” He stopped and looked up at the ceiling. “Besides offering opportunities to the people working at the plantation, I’ve always dreamed of creating a haven for orphaned children who have no one else to care for them.” His gaze returned to her face. “How would you feel about being a part of those changes?”
A gasp of pleasure filled Alexandra. “I’d love to be a part of—” The squeakiness in her voice surprised her. Suddenly her throat didn’t want to work. She swallowed hard and started again. “I’ve changed greatly over the past months. I’ve learned about the importance of giving to others, caring for those who are not as blessed as I.”
His dimples peeked out as his lips curved upward. “I’ve seen firsthand how much you’ve changed. You are the one I want to share my life with. Please tell me it’s not too late. Tell me you don’t love Lowell Sheffield.”
She flew off the bench and into his arms, burrowing into his shoulder with a sob. Jeremiah’s arms wrapped around her, drawing her close and making her feel safe. All of her concerns and doubts melted away. “I don’t love him, Jeremiah. How could I when you hold my heart in your hands?”
“Are you sure you can be happy with a simple farmer?”
“Only if his name is Jeremiah LeGrand.” She lifted her face then and let him see the love she felt. How had she ever entertained marriage to anyone else? As their lips met, she sent a prayer of thanksgiving to God. What a joyous thing to follow His bidding.
Epilogue
Magnolia Plantation, December 1817
Be careful, Charlotte.” Alexandra admonished Judah and Susannah’s toddler as she lurched toward the tall Christmas tree. “We don’t want you to scratch that beautiful face of yours.” Alexandra caught up with the little girl before she could reach the other children and led her in the opposite direction, across the ballroom floor to where Susannah sat.
“Thank you.” Susannah pushed herself up from the sofa with one hand, the other cradling her slumbering newborn. “I don’t know how Charlotte gets away from me so easily.”
Judah and Jeremiah emerged from the far side of the tree, where they had been engaged in keeping the large fir steady while it was being decorated by orphaned boys and girls from ages three to six. Alexandra and Jeremiah had taken them in when an epidemic of yellow fever swept through Natchez and were taking care of them until permanent homes for them could be found.
“It’s not as if you don’t have your hands full.” Judah smiled at his wife and took the infant from her, cradling the little girl in the crook of his arm. Alexandra was glad he no longer needed his crutches. The wooden leg he used allowed him so much more freedom to move about.
Her attention was caught when three-year-old Katie, the youngest of the orphan children, plopped down in the middle of the floor and began to cry.
“Whatever is the matter, Katie?” She glanced at the other five children, who were still running back and forth with strands of berries and homemade decorations for the tree. “Did someone push her down?”
Deborah Trent, the oldest of the children, stepped forward. A very serious little girl, she mothered the rest of the youngsters, none of whom were related to her. She put her arms around Katie and whispered in her ear until the little girl stopped crying.
Alexandra was thankful Deborah was so good with the children. It seemed she had so little energy herself these days.
The year had been hard for Natchez, but they still had a lot to celebrate. On December 10, Mississippi had become the twentieth state to enter the union, the new government meeting in the nearby town of Washington until the epidemic left Natchez, now the state capital. Their neighbors were beginning to tolerate her husband’s progressive ideas about sharecropping, if not adopting the practice itself. And they had been able to make Jeremiah’s dream of providing for orphaned children come true. She smiled across the room at him and thanked God once again for uniting them. She could hardly wait to see his face when she gave him his gift this year.
He walked over to her and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I love you, dearest.”
“I love you, too, my darling husband.” The look in his eyes still had the power to make her heart flutter. She was the most blessed woman in the world. Thankfulness filled her. She had come so close to allowing her grandmother to bully her into the wrong marriage. Only by following God’s will had she managed to find the true path to happiness. “Will you read the Christmas story to us now? Or after we exchange gifts?”
He pointed his chin at the large Bible that rested in a place of honor on top of her writing table. “Let’s remind our children of the real reason for this celebration.”
They gathered everyone around, the children, their friends, and all of the people who worked for and with them. The large ballroom was quite crowded, but there was no noise as everyone listened to her husband read from the second chapter of Luke.
After the reading was finished, everyone received a gift, from the youngest sharecropper’s child to Ezekiel, the oldest member of the household. Alexandra received a pair of gloves and a shawl from the Hugheses, as well as several hand-drawn pictures from the children.
When the rest of the gifts were distributed, Jeremiah moved toward her, his hands behind his back. “I have a special gift for you, my love.”
He brought his hands around, and she saw what appeared to be a scroll tied with a black ribbon. “What is it?” She took the roll from him and loosened the string. Smoothing the papers in her lap, she glanced at the opening paragraphs. “Is this a deed?”
“Yes.” His smile widened, making his dimples appear. “Do you remember the house in town that we looked at a few weeks back?”
Excitement coursed through her. “You bought it?” The papers slid to the floor when she jumped up and threw her arms around his neck, thinking of the Georgian mansion with expansive grounds that could be converted into a homey and comfortable orphanage to house a dozen unfortunate children. “You are undoubtedly the most splendid husband in the world.”
“How can I not be when I have such a wonderful wife?” He held her in a tight hug. “I still cannot believe how much God has ble
ssed us, Alexandra. Beyond my fondest dreams.”
“Mine, too, my dearest.” She smiled up at him. “I have a gift for you.”
He let her go long enough to reach for the small package on the side table next to the sofa where she had been sitting. “That looks too small to be for me.”
The others in the room seemed to fade away as Alexandra watched him unwrap the paper to uncover a tiny knitted cap. “It is too small for you.”
Recognition like the first rays of dawn filled his face.
“A baby?” A blush filled her face as she nodded. “Yes.”
“Should you be standing up?” Concern replaced the wonder in his expression. “Shouldn’t you be resting? Here, sit down.”
Judah’s laughter drew a frown from Jeremiah. “She’s not quite that delicate yet.”
“Leave him alone.” Susannah elbowed her husband. “I still remember when you were that attentive to me.”
Judah stroked his chin. “That was just yesterday, wasn’t it?”
They all laughed.
Alexandra felt as light as a puff of air. She never would have dreamed her life could be so filled with joy and laughter, hope and happiness. As her husband raised her hand to his lips, she knew that no matter what the future held God would see her and her faith-filled husband through it all.
AMONG THE MAGNOLIAS
Dedication
For my church family at Victory Congregational Methodist Church. Your love and support have always upheld me when I needed it most. I am thankful to be part of such a loving congregation.
Aaron
For John and Pat Bass—You are the inspiration for the characters I named after you. Thanks for the love you have lavished on your nieces and nephews. Sorry that I never quite developed a taste for tuna fish casserole.
Diane
Prologue
November 1839
Chattanooga…” Nathan Pierce let the syllables roll around in his mouth as he strode down the street toward the tavern at the crossroads. He liked the name of his newly incorporated town. Many others had been suggested, but he felt the Indian word suited the area best. A reminder of the original inhabitants of Tennessee, the people who had been removed to make way for the expansion of the United States. He had done what he could to make their removal easier—giving them food and blankets in an attempt to make their trek easier. But so many had died.
With a heavy sigh, Nathan hunched his shoulders against the cool November air as dusk crept over the town. Drawing even with three women, apparently a mother and her two daughters, he tugged on the brim of his hat. “Good evening.”
A chorus of giggles, shushed by the older woman, was the only answer he received from them. They looked vaguely familiar, but Nathan could not recall their names, not an unusual circumstance these days with the flood of settlers coming into the area. Everything was changing. But he couldn’t complain too much. Business at Pierce’s Dry Goods had become so demanding he had hired two men to help him at the counter, as well as a young boy who swept the floors and dusted the shelves to keep his store gleaming.
Poe’s Crossroads was no longer the meeting place for the town council, but it was still a good place to visit to catch up on whatever was happening in the community. And Margaret still performed there nightly. He liked visiting with the lively redhead. She had offered a sympathetic ear back in the days when his heart had been broken by Iris Landon—no, Iris Stuart.
Margaret was playing a lively tune on her piano as he entered the large room. Card games had already started at a couple of tables, and the bar was crowded with eager patrons. He ignored the odor of unwashed bodies and stale beer as he made his way across the room to an empty table near the piano, avoiding wet spots where the sawdust had failed to absorb spills.
Margaret finished playing with a flourish and turned on the piano bench. “You’re here early this evening, Nathan.”
He nodded. “Charles is going to close up, so I thought I’d come get some supper and see how you’re doing.”
Her lips turned up. “I’m flattered.” She waved at one of the waitresses and held up two fingers before taking a seat at his table. Two cups of coffee were plunked down on the table between them, followed quickly by two plates of meat and potatoes. Margaret folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head, encouraging Nathan to bless the food.
He looked down at his lap. “Lord, thanks for good company and good food. Amen.” Raising his head, he picked up his napkin and placed it in his lap. “Let’s eat.”
It was loud in the room, but they ate in silence. Nathan cleaned every bite of food from his plate and sat back with a contented sigh. “Poe’s cook cannot be outdone.” He looked toward Margaret’s plate and watched as she pushed her food around with her fork. “Is something wrong with your dinner?”
“No,” she answered him, shaking her head. “I guess I’m not very hungry.”
He stared at her face. Margaret could not be called beautiful in the strictest sense of the word. Her mouth was a little too generous, her nose a tad too long, and freckles covered every inch of her face. But her bright blue eyes and carrot-colored hair made most men look twice. Her personality is what made him seek her out. Margaret was a good friend—undemanding and nonjudgmental. “What’s wrong?”
She sighed and put her fork down. “I’ve been thinking about making a change.”
“What kind of change are you talking about?”
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Having more people here makes things complicated.”
Nathan frowned. “But you’ve lived here most of your life.”
Everyone knew Margaret’s history. Her parents had brought her west on the Tennessee River but perished of disease, leaving her without any knowledge of existing family. Her only connection to her past was the piano she now played for customers here at the crossroads.
“I want to do something more with my life than this.” She spread her hands to indicate the tavern. “I’m tired of waiting for something good to happen. I’m ready to make my own future. Do something important with my life.”
“Do you have something in mind?”
“Not really. All I know is I’m tired of coming into this place. Tired of being importuned by men who have the wrong idea about me. Tired of being shunned by the women in town.”
“They don’t know you like I do.” He reached out to take her hand in his. “If they did, they’d be proud to call you friend.”
Her smile seemed sad to him. Nathan wished he could do something for her. He thought of his bank account. He had enough money to give Margaret a new start no matter where she wanted to go. He opened his mouth to tell her his idea when his chair was bumped. Hard.
He wrinkled his nose as an offensive odor of sweat and grime washed over him. A beefy arm reached across the table and grabbed Margaret’s arm, pulling her hand from Nathan’s grasp as she was hauled out of her chair. “Whatta’ we have here?” His words were slurred, indicating he’d been imbibing freely. “Ye tol’ me ye had no time fer bein’ friendly. Yet I sees yer holding hands wit’ Mr. Fancypants here.”
For a split second, Nathan was frozen by shock. How dare someone accost Margaret?
“Let go of me, you oaf.” Margaret tried to pull away, but the big man had a tight grip on her arm.
Nathan surged up from his seat. “Let her go.” He reached out and grabbed the man’s arm, a part of him noticing a puff of dust while the majority of his mind registered the rock-hard muscles of the stranger’s biceps.
A rush of energy pumped into his arm, and he swung the stranger around to face him, causing the man to lose his grip on Margaret’s arm. Margaret stumbled into the table, knocking it and its contents onto the floor.
“You shouldna’ have done that, mister.” The drunken man focused his close-set eyes on Nathan. He swung his free hand up and landed a hard blow on Nathan’s chin.
Seeing stars for a moment, Nathan lost his grip on the man’s arm. He swallowed against the pain and balled h
is fists. “I don’t want a fight.”
“Too late.” The other man took another swing at him.
This time Nathan saw the move and managed to duck. His opponent stumbled forward, carried by his own weight. Nathan straightened his legs and twisted to follow the other man’s movements. He raised his fists to protect his face, knowing there would be no other way out but to defeat the man. Although he would have much preferred a peaceful end to this confrontation, he knew how to fight. His uncle had made certain of that.
As the man turned to continue the attack, Nathan moved forward and landed two heavy jabs—one on his opponent’s stomach and another on his chin. The man stumbled back and Nathan followed him, his blood boiling. Another blow to the stomach, followed by a swift uppercut, doubled the man over. Nathan stepped back, panting slightly from his exertion. He glanced around to make certain Margaret was okay, and his foot skidded through a puddle of coffee.
“Look out!” Margaret’s cry brought his attention back to the man in time to see the glint of a knife headed in a deadly arc toward his chest.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. He reached out both hands to stop the hand holding the weapon. It was like trying to stop a wall from falling down on him. His arms shook with the effort. The knife inched closer, slowly taking over his whole field of vision. He was no longer aware of anyone…only the honed edge of the blade that now almost tore through his shirt.
Failure loomed, as did the death he had no doubt would swiftly follow the knife’s plunge into his chest. In a desperate move, he stepped forward, placing his right leg between the other man’s feet, and twisted hard. Caught off guard, the man leaned his upper body forward.
In an instant the situation changed. Nathan felt his opponent’s foot slip. The larger man lost his balance and his momentum doomed him. The knife between them resisted briefly before sliding deep into the man’s body.
Horrified, Nathan released his tight grip on the man’s hand and tried to catch him before he hit the ground. It was a futile effort. The stranger outweighed him by at least two stone. When he hit the floor, he groaned loudly, rolled over…and died.
Mississippi Brides Page 16
