by Afton Locke
“Name it.”
“I want to court your daughter.”
Mother clutched her forehead and Rose’s fingers bunched up the tablecloth, causing her dessert fork to slide off the table onto the floor. Father’s polite face turned to stone.
“I’m afraid you’ve requested the one thing I cannot give,” he said. “Rose is already spoken for.”
Surprise and disapproval shot from Leroy’s eyes when he looked at her. She shook her head to deny Father’s words. Surely he didn’t believe she’d kiss one man if she belonged to another.
“No, I’m not,” she blurted out in denial.
Mother grimaced and reached for her glass of water. Rose’s heart sank in her chest when she realized her mother would be in pain the rest of tonight and probably all through tomorrow. Father sent her an ominous glare that promised a stern conversation later.
“We have high marriage goals for our daughter,” he said.
Leroy cast a rueful glance around the room and nodded at them all. “Well, good night. It was nice meeting you.”
“Oh, Leroy,” Father called out after him. “We plan on entering the community on our own terms. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention us to anyone.”
Rose clasped her hands under her chin as Leroy walked out of the door and her life. It was for the best. After the front door shut behind him and his car’s engine started up, she took a deep breath and held it.
Her legs were ready to give out too, so she sank back into her chair.
“I’ll clear the plates,” Mother said.
“I’ll help,” Rose added.
“Stay right where you are, young lady.” Father took Mother’s empty seat across from her and glared at her under lowered brows. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble today.”
“I’m sorry about the car. I swear I’ll never do it again.”
Father folded his hands on the table. “No, you certainly will not. I’ll lock you in this house if I have to.”
Her fingertips twitched on the arms of the chair. Wasn’t she already a prisoner here? Hadn’t she been one all her life?
“I want to see Leroy again.” The words were out before she could call them back.
His frown deepened. “Out of the question. He’s beneath you.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Because his skin is darker than ours?”
“It’s quite a bit darker,” he replied. “Besides, he has flared nostrils.”
Rose turned her head, her ears stinging from what she heard. How could he be so cruel? She saw Leroy as a handsome, desirable man, not a collection of colors and body parts.
To her surprise, Father reached across the table and held out his hand. Care and love filled his eyes, making it hard to dislike him.
“Rose, darling, I want the very best for you and you shall have it.”
“What if I don’t want the very best?”
She wanted Leroy. In the car. His hard, heavy body pressing her curves into the seat.
“You’re too young and sheltered to know what’s best,” Father continued in patient tones. “Years later, you’ll thank us for our prudent guidance.”
Not knowing what to say, she sat still.
“I see time is of the essence in finding you the right match. I must begin making enquiries immediately.”
“What is the perfect match, Father?”
“Someone successful and refined. Someone…white.”
He couldn’t be serious. The clatter of a dish breaking on the floor broke the silence.
Mother stared at her empty hands. “Charles, are you sure that’s wise?”
Father arched a brow. Mother rarely questioned him. “Of course it is. She looks whiter every day.”
Ella gripped the back of the nearest chair. “But we’re not white, especially me. Anyone can see that. And what if there are children?”
Father frowned and waved his fingers. “Details. For starters, she’ll use a different last name when she makes her entrée into society. As for parents, she’ll tell everyone she’s an orphan.”
Rose gripped the sides of her head, which now pounded with a headache to rival her mother’s. “Do I have any say in this?”
“Don’t you see? This has all been part of the plan,” he said.
Tears stung the backs of her eyes. “What plan?”
“We moved here to give you a future.”
The breath left her lungs and her head grew light. “I thought we came here because you wanted to retire in the country.”
“You didn’t fit in at Baltimore, Rose.”
True enough, she thought. The white girls had snubbed her and the colored ones avoided her because she was different.
“Now you can create a new beginning,” her father continued. “A white beginning.”
“But—”
He stood and dusted his hands. “You’re marrying a white man and that’s final.”
* * * * *
It was dark when Leroy finally pulled into Pearl Point. At least the rain had stopped. He killed the motor of Caleb’s car, glad he’d managed to return it in one piece. After today, he wasn’t too anxious to borrow it again.
Through the trees, lights winked from the cluster of buildings consisting of the oyster plant, the bunkhouse where he lived with the other workers and the cabin Caleb and Pearl shared. The latter two buildings were simple, one-room lean-tos that had been freezing cold all winter. One of his tasks was to help build more permanent structures.
Caleb opened the door of his cabin before Leroy had a chance to knock.
“You’re back,” the white man declared. “We thought you’d fallen in the river, car and all.”
Leroy chuckled. “I had to rescue a girl who ran off the road.”
“Is that right? Come in and tell us about it over a cup of coffee.”
A weight slid off Leroy’s shoulders when he walked inside. This was home and family. Not his homeplace, but close. The evening he’d just spent with condescending strangers wasn’t something he planned to repeat anytime soon.
The table in the center of the room consisted of a slab of plywood nailed to a barrel. It had nothing on it but a single burning candle and two coffee cups. Leroy was relieved not to see a tablecloth or a bunch of prissy-looking forks. He liked the bed sheet curtains fluttering in the evening breeze even better. The fanciest thing in this room was a bucket in the corner with wildflowers in it.
His cousin kissed his cheek in greeting. “Sit down. I’ll pour you a cup.”
Although Pearl had always been pretty, marriage increased her beauty. Because of the primitive conditions here, she wore a simple cotton dress, bare feet and a single ribbon to tie back her hair. Her green eyes were more languid and her skin had darkened to a deeper brown in the sun this spring from working in the large vegetable garden.
When Leroy sat down near Caleb, the man’s blue eyes and smile put him much more at ease than Rose’s father had. Ironically, Caleb was his boss and much whiter than the other man. The stern face he sometimes wore on the job was gone tonight. Marriage agreed with him too.
And I know it would agree with me…
“Tell us about this rescue,” Caleb said. “Was anyone hurt?”
Leroy lifted the full cup Pearl had just given him before sitting down herself and inhaled the rich scent.
“Thankfully not. Some crazy dame who didn’t know how to drive stole her father’s Packard. The rain didn’t help. Anyway, I drove her home and got a free dinner for my efforts.”
“Was she pretty?” Pearl asked.
Leroy shrugged and stared into his coffee cup. “She might have been. Why do you ask?”
“The look on your face says so,” his cousin replied. “If her father has a Packard, she’s probably white too.”
He nodded. “Kind of.”
Caleb raised a brow. “Kind of?”
“She looks white, but isn’t. It’s complicated,” Leroy replied.
Pearl took a delicate sip from her cup. “Mi
xed-race women can be quite beautiful.”
Caleb grabbed her hand across the table. “So can ones who aren’t.”
Leroy noticed the way their gazes locked and her bottom lip trembled. Their passion filled the room with an electric current. It reminded him of those moments in the car with Rose.
“What’s her family’s name?” Caleb asked, breaking the spell. “I don’t recall too many biracial folks around here, but maybe I’ve heard of them.”
Leroy took a drink of coffee and held it in his mouth as he remembered Mr. Wainwright’s request to meet the community on his own. To heck with what he wanted. The man had treated him as if he were a criminal. Some free dinner. The constant belittling had given him indigestion.
“They just moved here and seem to keep to themselves,” he said. “Rose’s father is Charles Wainwright—excuse me—Charles Wainwright the third.”
Caleb rubbed a hand across the black and silver hair at his temples, which matched his moustache. “I take it you don’t care much for the man.”
“He’s the most arrogant ass I’ve ever met.” Unfortunately, his daughter’s mouth was sweeter than candy—so sweet he’d do almost anything to get another taste of it.
“He talks haughty too.”
Leroy cleared his throat and attempted to imitate the voice that had scraped across his nerves the whole evening. At the same time, he imitated the way the man had glared at him—chin tucked to chest, lips pursed and eyes glaring under drawn brows.
“I’m Charles Wainwright the third and I’m better than anyone. You are a common laborer.”
Pearl laughed into her hand. “He said that?”
Leroy nodded. “When I asked to court his daughter, he turned me down. I haven’t got time to sniff around some white-looking gal with airs anyway.”
Caleb clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry. I’ve got so much work planned for you this week you’ll forget all about her.”
Leroy hoped so. He still couldn’t believe he’d asked to court her. It was just as well her father had said no. They were from completely different worlds. When the time was right, a simple woman from a simple family would be all he needed.
“How is Aunt Wilma?” Pearl asked.
“She still won’t leave that house.” Leroy stared into the candle’s flame. “I almost carried her out of there myself.”
“You do tend to be a little overprotective,” his cousin said.
Caleb nodded in agreement. “I know you didn’t like my messing around with Pearl in the back room of my plant very much.”
Leroy laughed. “No, sir, I didn’t.”
It was hard to believe how things had changed. Mama had taken in Pearl after her mother died, and she’d worked at the oyster plant with the rest of them. Her forbidden love affair with their boss developed after hours.
“So what stopped you from carrying her out of the house?” Pearl asked.
Leroy traced the rim of his cup. “Sadie. I’m worried about her.”
A frown knit Pearl’s delicate brows. “I thought she was happier than ever.”
“She is, for now. I’m not too sure about Buck.”
Caleb rubbed his jaw in concentration. “Buck seems an all right fellow to me. He was a good worker.”
“He doesn’t look at her right,” Leroy insisted. “Not the way you did at Pearl just now.” Or the way he’d looked at Rose tonight at dinner. “Something is missing.”
“Sadie’s a grown woman and tough as an oyster shell,” Pearl reminded him. “She’ll be fine.”
“Marriages come in all shapes and sizes,” Caleb added. “The ones with love are the best, but it’s not a necessity.”
Caleb had paid for his love with his business and position in the Oyster Island community, Leroy realized. He couldn’t see Buck making that kind of sacrifice for Sadie. He sure as hell couldn’t picture himself doing it for Rose.
Or could he?
His boss stood. “Get some sleep. We start early tomorrow.”
“Right. Thanks for the coffee,” Leroy said as he headed toward the door.
He couldn’t wait for the next workday to begin. Maybe then he’d be too busy to remember steamy kisses in a stolen car.
Chapter Three
Do you know what you’re asking for?
Yes. I’m asking for you.
Her words danced from Leroy’s ears all the way down to his tight groin. While raindrops pelted the windshield of the car, he covered Rose’s body with his. Tugging the hem of her rose-patterned dress, he almost tore it. When his hands found the smooth skin of her cool, bare legs, his cock hardened even more.
He inserted a finger into her tight core and wriggled it back and forth. While she writhed on the seat and moaned, he inhaled the rosy scent of her hot cream.
Now, Leroy. Now!
As if he needed an invitation. Holding a breath, he guided his shaft inside her tight channel. The rain beat harder, making a strange sound.
A sound like…snoring?
Leroy’s eyes flew open and he sat up in bed. Where was the car? Where the hell was Rose? He grimaced when he realized the guy in the bunk above him was snoring loud enough to knock the thin walls down.
Just a dream. Never in his life had one felt this real. It was as if Rose were here in this bed with him. If only she was. His cock ached with the need to come. He sure couldn’t go to work in this condition.
Satisfied everyone around him was still asleep, he spit into his palm and reached into his undershorts. When he touched himself with his wet hand, he imagined it was Rose’s sweet-smelling pussy instead. He squeezed harder than he ever had, matching the virginal tightness from the dream.
Sweat ran down his face while he stroked—slow, tight and hard. In moments, he came hard enough to pull his insides out. It took everything he had not to shout her name into the pillow. Afterward, his limbs felt too weak to get him out of bed, much less do a hard day’s labor.
While he cleaned himself up, he realized this dream would repeat every night until he fucked her for real. And he would, even if it killed him. Was she the right girl he’d been waiting for?
Slipping on a playing card someone had dropped on the floor, he stumbled to the washstand and slapped cold water on his face. How the hell could he know if she was the one when he’d barely met her? They needed to spend some time together…
Leave it alone, man. He had a good job that filled his entire life and no desire to lay eyes on Charles Wainwright III again. There was no room for a woman, especially a complicated, white-looking one. Aw, hell.
While he shaved, plans sprouted inside his head as the weeds did when they pushed through the cracks in the walls. He barely noticed the gray light of dawn at the small window. Didn’t much notice the sounds his cabin mates made as they woke up either.
After work, he’d ride his old bike out to her place. The house needed a lot of repairs and he was the man to do them. Just because her father hadn’t given permission to court her didn’t mean he was going to stay away.
He had to see her again.
* * * * *
Rose sat on her bed after dinner, swinging her legs in boredom. Nothing on her bookshelf tempted her, not even her favorite fairy books with the dog-eared pages. The plain walls could use some paintings. If only the urge to paint would return. She’d taken her easel and oil colors to the waterfront today and tried to paint…nothing. Every time she’d lifted her brush, she’d seen his face.
The face she’d never see again.
While Mother lay in bed all day with one of her headaches, Father had gone to Oyster Island to buy supplies for repairing the house. Oh yes, and to make discreet inquiries about a suitable husband for her. Maybe things would be easier when he finally married her off. At least then there’d be no hope of seeing Leroy.
Rose had prepared a cold supper, taken some up to Mother on a tray and barely eaten any of it herself. An uneven rhythm of hammering, interrupted by curses, drifted from the front porch. She covered her sm
ile with her hand. Her father was clearly not a handyman. How would he keep up with it all? The unkempt grass grew taller every day.
She left the bed and stared out her window, which had a view from the side of the house. The drapes were already pushed back as far as they would go. She wouldn’t bother with them at all if Father hadn’t insisted on them for propriety. Not that anyone could see her undress at night here.
Birds twittered in nearby trees, filling the air with movement and sound. The scent of honeysuckle drifted into the room. Of all places to be locked up as though she were a prisoner, this one was possibly the loveliest. St. Mary’s County had a lyrical beauty that would inspire her to create many paintings. Today had just been a bad day.
It was dusk, the time for fairies, she realized as she propped her elbows on the windowsill.
“Bring him back to me. Please.” She whispered the words out the window, hoping they’d hear and grant her wish.
What was the use? She’d never cross paths with him again. Father had seen to that. She studied her golden-colored hands. If only she’d been born one color or the other. If she were truly colored, Leroy would be allowed to court her.
Turning from the window, she decided to check on Mother and take away her empty tray. A metallic squeak, followed by voices, stopped her. Someone was here. She’d be grateful to see anyone, locked away as she was.
Rose gripped the windowsill, straining to hear better. She knew that voice—rich, peppery, male. Leroy was here! Flattening herself against the wall to get a better-angled view revealed a rusty blue bicycle leaned against the maple tree in the front yard.
If only she could see him too. Was he wearing that adorable plaid cap again? She clasped her hands under her chin. The fairies had heard and answered. Thank you! Thank you! I’ll never doubt you again, I swear.
Then her stomach sank. If Leroy had come back to convince Father to change his mind about courting her, it wouldn’t work. Once Father made up his mind about something, that was that.
Her hands flew to her hair. She rushed to the mirror and struggled to tame it. If she’d known he was coming, she would have changed into a nicer dress, sprinkled some rose water on her wrists, fixed her hair… She froze, wondering if she should show herself. Why bother? He would be sent away and she’d never see him again. He shouldn’t have returned, torturing her this way.
