Mutiny of the Heart

by McDonough, Vickie;

  He patted Jamie’s shoulder. “Stay here, son, while I assist Miss Hawthorne down.”

  He jogged back up the gangplank then beckoned her to him with his fingers. She swallowed the sudden lump that had risen to her throat and reluctantly obeyed. She placed her hand in his, and he deftly helped her down the steep walkway. When they were on solid ground, he captured her gaze and continued to hold her hand. Her breath grew shaky under his intense stare. He grinned. The rogue knew the effect he had on her.

  Scowling, she yanked her hand away, swept past him, and claimed Jamie’s hand. How could Mr. Reed realize the effect he had on her when she barely recognized it herself? She tugged Jamie forward. “Come, you have a grandmother to meet.”

  Lucas chuckled. Feisty little thing, aren’t you? He shook his head. What had gotten into him?

  Normally, he’d stay and see to the ship, but today he had highly important matters to attend to. He was about to give his mother the shock of her life. Nothing could please her more than a grandchild, except perhaps to see Marcus repent of his vile ways and come to know God.

  Lucas found it difficult to believe his brother could ever have a change of heart, but stranger things had happened. And last time he checked, God was still in the miracle-working business. He quickened his steps and caught up with Miss Hawthorne and Jamie. She sidled a glance at him, and he couldn’t miss her apprehension. “Everything will be fine. More than fine, in fact.”

  As they reached the stairs, Lucas slowed his pace then stopped. He turned back to face her. “Perhaps I should inform Mother about Jamie rather than shocking her with his sudden presence.”

  She studied him, nibbling on her lower lip in an enticing manner, then nodded. “Aye, that is probably the wise thing to do. Jamie and I can wait here.”

  Lucas motioned for the servant who was carrying their satchels to step forward. “Moses, let me have those bags, and take Miss Hawthorne and Jamie to the kitchen and see that they have something to drink and something to eat if they wish.”

  Moses seemed reluctant to turn over the bags to Lucas, but he finally relinquished them. “Thisa way, miss.”

  Miss Hawthorne followed the servant around the steps to a door that led below the main stairway. She glanced up at Lucas, and he smiled, hoping to reassure her that all would be well. When she disappeared under the stairs, he hurried up to the main floor of the house. He hoped his mother wasn’t resting. Now that they were home, excitement thrummed through him to reveal his news to her.

  In the entry, he waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting, then searched the parlor and music room but failed to find his mother. Mouthwatering scents drifted up from the kitchen, making him wonder what was for dinner. He walked to the back of the house and finally located her in the dining room, where she had covered the table with fragrant cut flowers that she was arranging in bouquets and putting into vases.

  “Lucas! Thank the good Lord you’ve returned.” She stepped back from the table and hurried forward, worry straining her still pretty face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She hugged him then stepped back with her hand over her heart. “We’ve had some thievery.”

  Lucas winced. He didn’t like the thought of his mother alone in this big house with just a servant or two for protection. She knew how to handle a flintlock pistol, but he didn’t want her placed in the position where it was necessary to use one. “When? What did they take?”

  “A hen and a few tools the first night. Then two piglets several nights later.”

  “Hmm … the tools rule out the thief being an animal.

  Perhaps we have some vagrants around. Have the fieldworkers sighted any strangers?”

  She shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

  “Well, worry no more. I’ll see to it now that I’m here.”

  She hugged him again. “I missed you. How long will you be home this time?”

  Rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finger, he stared at her. She looked tired. Though fifty years old, and her brown hair had not yet yielded completely to the gray, she had purple smudges under her eyes. “Are you getting enough rest?”

  “Of course. Our servants are so efficient that I could rest all day if I wanted.”

  “But you’d never do that.” He smiled. “I have a surprise for you.”

  She glanced past him, searching, then caught his gaze. “Where is it?” “Downstairs.” “In the kitchen?”

  “Yes. But you may want to sit down and let me explain before you run down there.”

  She lifted her chin. “A lady never runs.”

  “We shall see. Please have a seat, Mother.” She did as he bid then looked up with curious, blue-gray eyes. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. Where to begin?

  With his hands clasped behind him, he paced the length of the table and back to her. “Just over a week ago, I had two visitors. A comely woman arrived at my door with a young boy in tow, claiming he was mine.”

  His mother’s eyes widened. “How dreadful to use a child to obtain a few coins. Did you turn them out?”

  “I did not. I was intrigued with the boy. He has the look of the Reed men, Mother.”

  “But there are many children with dark hair and blue eyes.” She squeezed the stem of a flower until it broke in half.

  Lucas ran his hand through his hair. If he told her about the letter from Deborah, surely his mother would figure out what happened.

  “How old was the boy?”

  “He’s five.”

  She stood and walked over to him. “Then it’s impossible for the child to be yours, as much as I wish it might be so. You had already become a believer in Christ by then, and I know you’d never fall into sin in such a manner.”

  “Thank you, Mother.” She was a wise woman, his mother. He should have known he’d have to tell her the whole truth, and perhaps that was best. “He isn’t mine. The boy is Marcus’s son.”

  Her hand flew to her chest as she gazed at him with wide eyes; then she schooled her expression. “But how could you possibly know if it’s true? Anybody could show up at your door and make such a claim.”

  “There was a letter from the boy’s mother.”

  “And?”

  He pursed his lips and strode to the window, staring out at the green lawn. The grass had been brown when he was last here. A sudden memory of walking on that lawn with Deborah assaulted him. It pained him to think of sweet, gentle Deborah enduring what she had. He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder.

  “Tell me, son.”

  “His mother was Deborah.” The words came out on a whisper.

  She turned him around, her eyes filled with compassion. “Oh, Lucas. I’m so sorry.” Suddenly she scowled. “How could Marcus do that to you? To Deborah? I don’t want to believe him capable of such a horrible act.” “I’m sorry, Mother.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your doing.”

  He shook his head. “I should have searched longer for her. Looked in more places.”

  “No, you did far more than anyone expected. You left home, your business, and hunted for her for nearly two years. No man could have done more.”

  “Yet I failed.”

  “Shh … no more, I said.” She patted his arm, her eyes sparking with hope. “So, it’s true then? The boy is a Reed? He truly is my grandson?”

  He nodded. “Jamie is his name. But there’s something else. He arrived with a young woman who has raised him since Deborah died.”

  She gasped. “Deborah’s dead?”

  “Yes. Three years now. The woman’s name is Miss Heather Hawthorne, and she’s from Canada. Deborah told her that Jamie was my son.”

  “Why would she do such a thing?”

  “To protect him. He’d be scorned all his life if people knew he was the son of the Black Mark. I’ve accepted Jamie as my own, and that’s all anyone will ever know if I can help it.”

  She looked out the window, as if digesting all th
at he’d told her. “‘Tis a fine, honorable thing you’ve done, son. I know this will cause talk among our friends and neighbors and that you’ll face hardship and scorn from some people because of Jamie, but I’m proud of you.”

  He straightened and wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Thank you. It means a lot to have your support.”

  She reached up and patted his cheek. “You’ve always had my support, son.”

  “There’s one more thing. You need to know that Miss Hawthorne is not aware that I have a brother, much less that he’s Jamie’s true father.”

  “Don’t you think she should know the truth?”

  Lucas shrugged. “If Deborah wanted her to know, don’t you think she would have told her?”

  “I suppose she feared word getting out about Marcus.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded.

  “We can talk more of these things later, but now, I want to see my grandson.”

  Without waiting for him, she lifted up her skirts and hurried toward the staircase—not running, but almost.

  Heather surveyed the large kitchen while Jamie enjoyed a slice of bread with creamy butter and strawberry jam and a glass of milk. A soot-blackened brick hearth held a large cauldron of bubbling soup or stew. The pot hung on a long rod with a hook on the end so it could be pulled off the fire when done cooking. Two women worked in unison, one cutting biscuits and the other laying them on a baking pan.

  Footsteps sounded on the inside stairwell, and an older woman with brownish-gray hair and sparkling eyes hurried down, her dress swishing. Mr. Reed’s mother, Heather presumed. The woman’s hungry gaze latched on to Jamie, who continued eating, oblivious that he had an audience. Mr. Reed arrived in the kitchen right after his mother. He walked around the table, and when Jamie spied him, the boy smiled.

  “Come, son, let’s clean you up. Your grandmother is eager to make your acquaintance.” One of the servants scurried over with a damp cloth and wiped Jamie’s hands and face. “Thank you, Mable.”

  The shorter of the two Negro women nodded, smiled, and returned to her worktable. Heather resisted shaking her head. Did Mr. Reed’s kindness know no bounds?

  “Jamie”—Mr. Reed motioned to his mother—“this is Amelia Reed, your grandmother. Mother, this is Jamie, my son.”

  The other servant peered over her shoulder with wide eyes before quickly turning around again. Mrs. Reed moved cautiously, as if Jamie were a butterfly she might startle away. “I’m so happy to meet you, Jamie, and am so glad that you’ve joined our family.”

  Jamie’s gaze darted to Heather’s, and she smiled and nodded. He gave a half bow and said, “I’m happy to meet you, too.”

  Mrs. Reed chuckled and ran her hand down his head. “You look like your father.” She smiled at her son.

  “Aye, that’s what people keep saying.” Jamie glanced down at his plate. “May I finish my bread now?”

  “Certainly. Is there anything else you’d like?” Mrs. Reed pulled out a chair, never taking her eyes off her grandson.

  “I think Jamie has had enough for now, but before you sit down, Mother, I’d like to introduce Miss Hawthorne.” He leaned toward his mother, and spoke softly. “She raised Jamie after his mother died and is the one responsible for bringing him here. I’ve asked her to remain as Jamie’s governess until I can hire a permanent one.”

  Mrs. Reed scurried toward her. “Please forgive my appalling manners, dear. I have no excuse except for being mesmerized with my grandson. I can never express my gratitude to you for all you’ve done.”

  “No thanks are needed, ma’am. Jamie is a good lad and a delight to care for. ‘Tis a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you. Why don’t you have a seat and some refreshment? I know the trip here isn’t overly long, but it’s a warm day.” Mrs. Reed gestured toward the table.

  Heather smiled then took a seat across from Jamie while his grandmother slid in beside him. Mrs. Reed patted Jamie’s shoulder and smiled. “God has surely blessed us this day.”

  seven

  While his mother, Miss Hawthorne, and Jamie lingered over breakfast the next morning, Lucas strode out to the barn to investigate the thefts. Folks along the river were neighbors and most of them friends, with the exception of a few staunch Loyalist holdouts who were highly verbal about their beliefs and still swore their allegiance to England, but he couldn’t imagine any of them resorting to stealing. He’d never had this problem before and wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. Not only was he concerned for his mother’s well-being, but now he had Jamie and Miss Hawthorne to worry about, as well.

  After watching the two ladies interact with Jamie most of yesterday, he had to admit he admired Miss Hawthorne more and more. He was certain she’d done without to provide for his son and to bring him here. Whenever he thought of hiring another woman to watch Jamie, his heart clenched. He didn’t want Miss Hawthorne to go.

  He inspected the well-manicured flower beds and neat hedges and nodded to a couple of servants weeding the lush spring flowers as he passed by. “Well done!”

  The men smiled and nodded their thanks for his appreciation. Slavery was dreadful, and he in good conscience could not abide it. Most of the older servants remained from his father’s days. Even though he’d freed them, they’d stayed on, working for room and board and a fair wage, but a few newer ones he’d purchased as slaves at public auction and then set free, only to turn around and house them and pay them a wage. The expenses cut into his profit, but he was rewarded with the workers’ loyalty and appreciation. God had blessed his business, and he was able to sleep at nights, knowing he’d done right by his servants, even though some of his associates scorned him for his unconventional beliefs.

  He walked into the barn, wondering where his overseer was. Breathing in the familiar scents of horses, fresh hay, and leather, he searched for one of his servants. Samuel, a master with horses, stood in a stall toward the rear of the barn, humming as he brushed Lucas’s horse. When Lucas walked closer, his black gelding noticed him and stuck his head over the stall and whickered.

  “Whoa, hoss,” Samuel said, reaching for the animal’s halter.

  Lucas scratched the white diamond on the gelding’s forehead. “How are you, Liberty?”

  “He be just fine ‘n’ dandy, Missah Reed. Though I ‘magine he’d like a good, long run.”

  “Him and me both. But first I need to know if anything has been discovered about the thief.”

  Samuel left the stall and shook his head. “Nah, sir. Not nothin’ but some footprints.”

  “Show me where they are.”

  “Well …” Samuel scratched his chest. “They’s gone now. It done went and rained the night of that second robbery, and footprints was tracked inside the barn from all the mud, but they’s good and dried up now.”

  Lucas scanned the barn to see if anything looked out of place. “Mother said they stole some tools.”

  “Just an ol’ ax. I’m guessin’ it was to kill that chicken they done stole.”

  Lucas stood with his hands on his hips, staring out the barn door. He could stand to lose a chicken to a hungry person, and even a couple of piglets, but what if the man decided he wanted a horse next time?

  “Do you know where Mr. Remington is?”

  “Yassah. He done went down to the fields.”

  Lucas didn’t want to wander that far from home today in case he was needed. His mother and Jamie were getting along famously, but Miss Hawthorne seemed a bit withdrawn. Could be she was just feeling out of place or even left out since Jamie had taken so well to his grandmother’s affection and pampering. If he didn’t watch out, his son would soon be spoiled. Perhaps a ride out to the fields with him would be good for Jamie.

  “Go ahead and saddle Liberty for me.”

  “You wants me to bring him up to the big house?”

  “No, but thank you.” Lucas studied the man who’d worked on the plantation for a good ten years. “I suppose you’ve heard the ne
ws that I have a son who’s come to live here.”

  “Yassah. I think that be a blessing from God, I do.”

  Lucas nodded. “Me, too. If Jamie ever happens down here alone, I’d be grateful if you’d keep a good eye on him. He’s not used to being around horses, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to him.”

  “You can count on Samuel.” He smiled and nodded. “I be watchin’ that boy like he’s my own.”

  Lucas clapped the man on the shoulder. “I appreciate that, Samuel.”

  He started back to the house. If only things with Miss Hawthorne could go as easily as with Samuel.

  “I normally take a rest after luncheon, but I’m anxious to start remodeling this bedchamber for Jamie.” Mrs. Reed ambled around the room. “This used to be the nursery.”

  Heather liked how the chamber had been refurbished and now held a double bed with a canopy and colorful floral draperies. An unusual rocking chair sat in one corner. Her gaze traveled along one arm of the chair and up and around the curved top and down to the other arm, all a single, continuous piece of wood held in place by long, decorative spindles that formed the back and sides.

  Mrs. Reed lifted the edge of one drape and shook her head. “This simply will not do for a boy. I’ll have to order some fabric from Charleston and have these remade.”

  “I’m certain Jamie won’t mind things as they are now.” She glanced over to where he sat in the open doorway that led to a balcony, stacking pieces of wood that looked as if they were leftover from a building project. Mrs. Reed said they used to be his father’s.

  What would she say if she knew her grandson had been sleeping on a simple cot, covered with ragged quilts discarded after a neighbor’s fire?

  Jamie was far better off here, even though he’d grow up an American. He’d have family who loved him and a good education, and he’d never lack anything. He might miss her, but his grandmother and father would give him all the love he needed.

  Heather should have brought him here sooner. If only she’d had the means.

  She sighed and strolled over to the door, staring out at the expansive lawn. Sculpted bushes and flower beds ran all along the front of the house, adding color and loveliness to the brick and wrought iron.