Snow on Magnolias

by Hattie Mae

  SNOW ON MAGNOLIAS

  by Hattie Mae

  Snow on Magnolias

  Hattie Mae

  Copyright 2014 by Hattie Ratliff

  Smashwords Edition

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the produce of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Book cover: Earthly Charms http://www.earthlycharms.com/

  Edited by: Gwen Hayes, Fresh Eyes Critique & Editing

  With regard to digital publication, be advised that any alteration of font size or spacing by the reader could change the author’s original format.

  Books in the Bon Amie series

  Dedication

  When I was growing up in Louisiana, I loved hearing all the old sayings handed down from generation to generation. One of my dad’s favorites was, “you can always tell a true Cajun. They can look at a field of rice and tell you how much gravy it would take.”

  So I dedicate this book to all the hard-working rice farmers out there. It goes great with my gravy.

  I would also like to dedicate this book to my dear husband, Ernest, who has read my books and never misses a chance to brag about them to everyone who will listen.

  And also my three children and their spouses and six grandchildren who make me proud everyday. You are my blessings in action.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sam LeBlanc sat in the old rocker; it’s paint worn from daily use. He rocked gently in the familiar chair on the gallery outside his bedroom.

  The smell of fresh rain lingered in the air; a ring around the moon gave promise of more to come. Was there anywhere on earth that smelled as great after a rain than Louisiana? He thought not. But along with the cooling rain came the heavy thick humidity. What did his mom say? Something about with every cup of good there’s a spoonful of bad. His feet rested on the banister as he swatted a mosquito whining around his ear.

  His T-shirt clung to his body, cooled by a light breeze rustling through the mighty oaks. Oaks his ancestors had planted and made sure would withstand time. His family had held this land for generations, and with his help he expected it to be held for generations to come. Sam could imagine the hands of his kin reaching across the past to lend help when he was in need. He knew it deep in his soul and felt their presence as they watched over the plantation and the family it housed.

  He released a heavy sigh. Harvest time was approaching and he had yet to find the help needed to cut the rice, and now, with Odelia’s broken arm, he would have to find someone to assist her.

  As he listened to the rain frogs, his body relaxed. Late night was his favorite time, with everyone asleep and worries laid aside, all seemed right with the world. He knew he worried too much and should give credit to his brothers, but he just couldn’t let go of being in charge.

  He stifled a yawn, and stretched out his arms. The sight of headlights as they snaked down the winding lane caught his eye. He leaned against the banister. Who could be calling at this hour, this far off the main road? Someone with bad news or someone up to no good.

  Just last year, he would have hoped it was Lisa. But not now. His love for her died during the nights he’d held his daughters as they cried for her return. And the days when he comforted them and assured them they were not to blame. Never again would he allow a woman to enter their lives and cause them pain.

  The car made a sharp right turn away from the main road, stopping at the small house where Odelia lived. She was so much more than a caregiver for his family. She’d come to them just before his mom had died and been more of a second mother to he and his brothers. Sam walked down the stairs and strolled across the covered walk leading to that side of his home. In the shadows of one of the oak trees, he picked up a large branch off the ground to serve as a weapon, just in case, moved a clump of Spanish moss out of his way, and waited.

  Lights from the side of the house illuminated the area. The car stopped. The driver’s door opened and bare legs unfolded out of the small car. The legs of a woman.

  Sam dropped the branch and stood ready to confront the trespasser when the rest of her body followed the legs out of the car.

  He stared in disbelief as the redhead stood in the beam of the floodlights with hands on her hips and stared at the charred part of Odelia’s house. The smell of smoke from the fire that happened two weeks ago still clung to the thick air.

  He looked at his watch. 1:16 in the morning. A redheaded woman. Everyone in Louisiana knew what that meant, especially Sam, and there she stood.

  “Damn,” Sam said under his breath. His brothers would say he only had one oar in the water, just his luck. His superstitions all had an ounce of truth in them, and this one was no exception. A red-headed woman on his property on a Monday, he now knew his week was doomed.

  I don’t need this now. He’d enough trouble finding workers to bring in the rice crop. And being able to keep his brothers motivated to work the fields was another nest of trouble. Nothing he did came easy now days, nothing at all. No, he didn’t need any bad luck this week. And he certainly didn’t need it coming from a woman. But there stood trouble right before his eyes, shapely legs and all.

  He stepped out of the shadows into the light. “May I help you?” he asked.

  “Mercy!” She spun around, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Ma’am are you lost?” Sam watched as her eyes turned to liquid and her chin began to quiver.

  Sam dug his shoe into the soft dirt. Aw hell. This was not going well.

  “Look lady, are you in trouble or something?”

  She stiffened her back and made a quick swipe with the back of her hand across her eyes. “No. I’m not in trouble, I’m here to see my Aunt Odelia. Does she still live here?” Her voice shook as she turned back towards the damaged house. “Is she alright?”

  A lost memory tugged at his brain. His steps took him closer for him to study her features. A smile drifted across his lips. “Well, well, I remember you. You’re that girl that spent the summer with Odelia. You’re little Rose, all grown up.”

  Remembering her shapely legs when they glided out of the car, he now took in the rest of her. Her arms wrapped around her small waist. Her full lips drew his focus to the tiny mole at the right of her top lip. Still there. “I remember you alright. You stayed in my pocket that whole summer. You were afraid of everything but brave enough not to show it.”

  Beads of sweat popped up on Sam’s forehead. His throat tightened as he remembered something else, Rose was the first girl he’d ever kissed. How old had he been, twelve, maybe thirteen? He’d since kissed many girls, but he couldn’t think of when.

  Thunder rolled in the distance. The humidity wasn’t the only thing heavy in the air tonight. Trouble was brewing and it was coming fast.

  Rose shifted her weight, her voice low and husky.

  “You have a good memory. I remember that summer too. It seems like there were two or three rowdy boys that summer. Which one are you?”

  His voice got hung in the back of his throat so he coughed. He was not a young boy with first kisses on his mind but a grown man with good southern manners.

  “I’m Sam. Forgive my lack of hospitality, Rose. You must be dead on your feet. Odelia has long been in bed. She’s staying in the main house while her place is rebuilt. She had a k
itchen fire a couple of weeks ago.”

  He tugged on his ear and continued. Why was he so nervous? It had to be the red hair. “I’ll get your bag and show you to one of the bedrooms.”

  Sam lifted a large suitcase out of her backseat and placed it on the ground. He glanced back inside the car to see if there was another bag. Yellow Post-its hung on the dashboard, and candy wrappers littered the floor. Several other bags and boxes were crammed inside the car. How long was she staying?

  “Leave your car. Someone will bring it around in the morning. Your things will be safe.” Sam bent over to pick up the bag at the same time as Rose. Her hair brushed his face. Soft as a kitten’s belly. He inhaled – fresh peaches warmed by the sun. He coughed again, to clear his head.

  He walked up the path. “Did you get lost? Is that why you’re so late?” he asked.

  “No, I planned to start out sooner, but I kept finding one more thing to do. I’m inclined to do that. Some people might think I’m flighty.” Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, she added, “I like to consider myself a multi-tasker. I do agree that sometimes, like today, I underestimate my time.” She shifted her purse to the other shoulder. “I certainly didn’t mean to arrive at someone’s home this late, but I never saw one motel, not one that I would stay in, since I left New Orleans. I apologize.”

  Sam guessed Rose’s height to be only about five feet, so he slowed his gait, but she kept up with the stride of his six foot two frame. And kept on talking. For a little woman, she sure could talk.

  “Odelia didn’t say anything at dinner about you coming tonight. You know she talks about you all the time, I can’t believe she didn’t yell it from the rafters.”

  “Oh, I didn’t tell her. I meant to. But things happened and I thought---well never mind what I thought. I should have called,” she said.

  Opening the front door, he lowered his voice. “No need to get the whole house up. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” He led her up the large staircase, softly lit from sconces on the wall. The steps, covered with carpet in shades of pinks and grays, showed wear from the years of use, and they creaked ever so lightly as they walked. At the top of the stairs, he opened a door on his right and flipped on the light.

  “I trust this will do.” He gestured his hand to encompass the whole room. A large grin spread across his face and pride lit his eyes.

  “Yes. The room is lovely, thank you,” she said.

  Sam was proud of his home. He knew he was fortunate to have inherited this grand plantation. Sam wished all his brothers held the same love for Annees Passees. The name on the plantation, which meant ‘years gone by,’ fit it perfectly and had also been passed on including the rest of the housing and land.

  “Sam, don’t tell Aunt Odelia I’m here. I have a habit of getting up early so I would like to surprise her,” she whispered.

  “Okay, I know she will be happy to see you.” Sam placed his hand on the doorknob and turned back. “Will your husband be joining you? Odelia told us you were getting married last month.”

  “No, I didn’t get married. In fact don’t ever plan to.” Rose eased the door shut, forcing Sam to back out of the room into the hall. “Ever.” The door closed except for a crack that Rose peeked at Sam through. “Goodnight, Sam, and thanks.”

  If she had to talk about that humiliating day when Ted deserted her at the altar one more time, she thought she would fade away. That was the main reason she was here. To forget about him and to not see the disapproving look in her mother’s eyes. Of course the plea from her aunt that she needed help made it an easy decision to jump in the car and drive away from Atlanta. It was time for her to rely on herself.

  She ran her fingers over the smooth wood of several antique pieces of furniture placed around the large room. This was a writer’s room if ever she’d seen one. A room that calmed her, inspired her. Maybe she’d come to the right place to renew herself after all.

  A green satin lined full-tester bed dominated the room. Colors of soft greens and mauves graced the walls and drapes, offering a hint of peace and acceptance. A hand-stitched Ohio star quilt made of the same mauves and greens, a slight shade darker, covered the bed. A pillow scarf framed by a tiny row of tatted lace with tiny roses completed the edging as it concealed the feather pillows.

  French doors that led to the gallery spanning the second floor caught her attention. A full moon flooded the area as lighting danced in the distance. Large white rockers with blue checked cushions lined the wall. A porch swing creaked as it moved lightly in welcome at one end. Other French doors opened onto the gallery and Rose wondered whose rooms they harbored.

  This place was more beautiful than she remembered. The large white columns connected both floors like a gentle giant holding this home steadfast. Was Sam the gentle giant keeping watch over his family? Why else would he have been up at this hour?

  She had come back to this place hoping to find---what? Something made her feel welcome that summer she visited. She remembered feeling safe. Peaceful even.

  A perfect place to find me again, this might be my last chance to find the real Rose. Not the Rose Mother tried to mold and still found fault with. No more Mother, no more picking a man of certain standards, and then hating me when I can’t hold on to him. No more wanting me to be someone I’m not.

  Rose washed her face, threw on a T-shirt, and crawled under the quilt. The feather mattress engulfed her in its folds, holding her close keeping her safe. Her eyes were heavy as she thought of her meeting with Sam.

  Yes Sam, this room will suit me fine. She turned over and plumped her pillow. I remember you too. I also remember a kiss. What girl ever forgot her first kiss? Rose ran her finger over her lips and smiled.

  They’d been trying to catch bullfrogs along the canal bank and stopped to rest. Sam reached over and wiped perspiration off the top of her lip. Then he smiled a slow crooked grin and kissed her ever so lightly full on the lips. It was like he sucked the breath right out of her. To hide his embarrassment, he had punched her on the arm and ran off. The rest of the summer she caught him watching her, especially her mouth. Had he felt the flutter in his stomach like she had? Surprised that after all this time she’d never forgotten that kiss. She turned over in bed again and closed her eyes.

  Rose shifted her weight and felt her body sink a little deeper into the mattress. Sun from a nearby window warmed her face as a fresh smell of clean starched linens caressed her nose. She blinked her eyes a couple of times before slowly opening them, focusing on the vision before her. She slowly closed her lids again. Only to jerk them open and let out a piercing scream.

  “Gracious, merciful me!”

  There staring back were her own eyes. Frightening eyes reflected in a mirror held close to her face by a small giggling girl.

  “What in the world do you think you’re doing? You nearly scared the life out of me.”

  The small girl’s giggle stopped and a frown replaced her smile. She scooted from the side of the bed and ran to the far side of the room.

  Rose stood on shaky legs. The little imp cowered in the corner hugging a well-loved rag doll. Rose’s anger now turned to guilt. “Look I’m sorry, but you scared the begeebers out of me.”

  The sound of stampeding buffaloes came up the stairs. Sam and two more men rushed in her bedroom followed by a girl older than the little one clinging to the wall followed.

  “What happened?” Sam asked.

  The little girl ran and wrapped her small arms around Sam’s leg. “I’m sorry Papa. I didn’t know she was the cross kind. I was just trying to see if she was breathing. Really I was.”

  Sam knelt and gathered the child in his arms. “It’s okay, pumpkin.” Holding her close he ran his large hands gently over her hair, his voice calm and soothing.

  “Lizzy, you know better. Why were you in Miss Rose’s room to start with?” he asked his daughter.

  “Cuz, when I passed her room I heard a sound. Her door was not locked, so I crept up to her bed, and I cou
ldn’t see her moving. She looked like Sleeping Beauty, but she’s not. Sleeping Beauty would never yell at me.” Lizzy peeked at Rose through her fingers.

  “I told her I was sorry,” Rose said. A lump in her throat blocked her words as she looked at the three men. All turned their accusing eyes on her. You messed up again, the voice of her mother echoed in her head.

  “I really didn’t mean to scare her, but after all, she was… she did…” Rose sighed and bowed her head. “I’m sorry Lizzy.”

  Sam stood with Lizzy in his arms.

  “No harm done.” Sam followed his brothers’ gaze to Rose. A deep red color moved up his neck into his face. “If my brothers are through gawking at you, we’ll leave and give you a chance to put the rest of your clothes on. Meet us downstairs for breakfast. Your aunt will be very happy to see you.” Sam offered a tight grin.

  He lifted his little girl’s face up to his, and a warm loving smile took his firm lips. “Lizzy, tell Miss Rose you’re sorry for scaring her.”

  “I sorry, Miss Rose,” Lizzy whispered as she kept her eyes down, avoiding looking at Rose or anywhere in her direction.

  “Come along Bea, the excitement’s over. Time to eat.” Sam put his free arm around the older girl’s stiff shoulders, and they all filed out of her room as the older girl shot Rose a cold accusing stare.

  The voice of one of the other brothers drifted upstairs.

  “What’s the world coming to when Sammy Boy invites a red- headed woman into his home on a Monday? You sure are slipping.”

  Their laughter and teasing continued as they walked down the stairs.

  Maybe this was not the place to refill her soul. Sam made her feel like an intruder last night, and from his looks this morning, he still considered her one.