Return to Me

by Rosemary Rogers

  Taye opened her arms to the young girl Naomi had befriended just after the war began. Efia and her twin sister, Dorcas, both slaves, had been attempting to reach safety in the North and had accompanied Taye, Cameron and Naomi on the long trek on the Underground Railroad.

  Mrs. Portray took a step back. “You…you know this young female?”

  “I do.” Taye closed her arms around the thin woman, pleased to see she was alive and well. They had parted one night in a field somewhere in Maryland. Efia and Dorcas had gone across the bay to Delaware to join family, while Taye had traveled on with the others to Baltimore. “And I can vouch for her honesty,” Taye insisted, meeting Mrs. Portray’s gaze.

  “Well…” The matron took one look at Taye’s face and realized that if she wanted the Campbell sisters’ business, she had better back off. Even if the chit was stealing, the loss of a few buttons would be nothing compared to the loss of the income Taye and Cameron might bring in. “Well, you two just visit and let me know if you need anything.” She backed away, returning to her position behind a counter where she cut cloth.

  “How are you?” Taye stepped back and squeezed Efia’s hands between her own, noting that they were rough from harsh soap. “However did you get back to Jackson? I thought you were in Delaware.”

  Efia lifted a thin shoulder, her gaze taking in Taye as she spoke. “Things didn’t work out there, so I jest come home. Got me a man who takes real good care of me.” She smiled, revealing a broken front tooth. “I’m sure ya know him. Clyde Macon. He was the overseer at the Filberts’ place.”

  Taye’s face fell, but she quickly lifted her mouth into a half smile. She did know Clyde Macon, a white man from Florida, though only by reputation. Before the war, he had been known in the county as a brutal, unjust overseer and was thought to have been responsible for the disappearance of more than one young slave girl. Rumor had been that he liked sex with very young girls, ten to fourteen years old, and that he liked it rough.

  But Efia obviously seemed pleased by her circumstances, and it had only been rumor.

  “So you’re making out well?” Taye asked.

  Efia shrugged. “Well enough. Better than most of the negras for certain. At least I got a roof over my head and food in my belly.”

  Taye nodded. “It was dreadful to return home and see what’s happened to our town. To Elmwood.”

  “I best be getting back.” Efia began to move toward the door, clutching a black velvet drawstring purse. “Clyde don’t like me out much.”

  “It was good to see you,” Taye called after her as Efia opened the door, a tiny bell ringing over her head. “I know Cameron and Naomi will be pleased to hear that you’re safe and well. I’m sure we’ll see each other in town again.”

  Taye watched as Efia passed the shop window and disappeared from sight. She was concerned with Efia’s black eye and broken tooth. Knowing the reputation of Clyde Macon made her all the more suspicious. Yet, Efia did seem happy, Taye thought. She was probably worrying for nothing.

  “What can I show you, Miss Taye?” Mrs. Portray hustled around the counter. “I have a lovely silk damask, the color of your eyes, just aching to be made into an evening wrap.”

  “Where you been?” Clyde snapped from the sagging front porch of the hastily built one-room shack in J Town. He rose out of a stolen cane rocking chair and set one of his new hound puppies gently back into a basket with its mother.

  Clyde was an ugly man with a receding hairline, plump, hairy arms and a perpetual stain of tobacco juice down his beard-stubbled chin. He was mean, too, with the men who worked for him, with their neighbors and especially with Efia. Sometimes she wished she was that bitch hound in the basket on the porch. He showed the dog far more kindness than he had ever offered her.

  But when she’d returned to Mississippi after running from the law in Delaware, Clyde had taken her in. At first, she had thought it was going to be a business arrangement. She had thought she was going to cook and clean for him and his men, and he was going to pay her in cash. She had been naive to believe those were the only duties he would require of her.

  Efia hurried up the muddy path toward the house, carrying a cloth feed sack of food in each arm. The mile walk from Jackson to J Town had been hot, lugging the bags of cornmeal, flour and lard, especially as she was dressed in her best Sunday gown and shoes, both of which were too tight. She knew that the feather in her hat was drooping with the heat and humidity, and the sweat that trickled from her armpits was staining the fabric of her gown. That knowledge was upsetting enough to nearly bring her to tears. She had worked hard to make the money to buy this gown and matching hat and shoes from the used shop on the edge of town. Harder than any woman should have to work, especially flat on her back.

  “I told ya I had to go into town to get flour to make biscuits.” She rushed up the steps, circumnavigating Clyde, hoping to avoid a cuff as she went by.

  “The boys are hungry. Ain’t nuthin’ to eat here but friggin’ corn pone that got worms in it.”

  She walked through the open door that allowed a hot breeze to filter into the main room. It also allowed the flies free access.

  The “boys” were the band of ragtag men, bad men, black and white and mixed race, who worked for Clyde. Many of them had nowhere to go and slept on the shack floor. She was expected to cook for them and clean up after them.

  “I got salted beef, too. I’ll whip up some beef and gravy over biscuits in no time. Ya know ya like how I make it.”

  “I was hungry an hour ago!” He followed her through the doorway, giving her a push between her shoulder blades.

  Efia caught herself before she tumbled to the floor. She had stopped by Orpa’s on her way through the winding road of J Town and traded eggs for the stolen buttons. She didn’t want to break the precious eggs. “I’ll make it up to ya, Clyde.” She lowered the bags to the fine cherry dining table he’d stolen from one of the nearby plantation homes. She didn’t know where it had come from. Didn’t care.

  “Damn straight you’ll be makin’ it up to me.” He walked up behind her. “’Cause my pecker’s been itchin’ since I got up.”

  Clyde clasped her around her waist and knocked her up against the table. She closed her eyes with a grunt as her thighs banged hard into the wood.

  Clyde lifted up her lavender skirt and the lace petticoat she wore. She hadn’t bothered paying the thirteen cents extra for the drawers. A girl like her didn’t need drawers.

  Efia heard Clyde drop his pants and his belt buckle hit the floor. She thought to suggest they move onto the narrow bed they shared behind the curtain she’d strung up. Anyone who walked by the shack would be able to see them through the open doorway, but she was afraid of angering him any further. She’d set him off last night because she had spilled dishwater on the step, and she’d received a black eye in payment. It hurt like hell and she didn’t want another, so she kept her mouth shut.

  Clyde pushed hard on her back and she bent over; her stomach rolled. She knew what he wanted. He liked it that way because he said she was tighter. She thought he liked it because he realized it hurt her.

  Efia knew better than to cry out, though. That was how she had gotten the broken tooth a couple of months ago, protesting against his unnatural desires.

  Efia squeezed her eyes shut against the pain and gripped the table. Her thighs bumped against the edge, making a rhythmic, banging sound as Clyde grunted.

  Trying to block out the sounds, the feelings, she thought of Taye. Taye with her light-colored skin and blue eyes. Taye with her fancy parasol with the fringe that matched her hat, and a new surname to go with it. A white surname, Campbell. The best in the county, maybe in all of Mississippi. What had Taye done to deserve all that? What had Efia done not to deserve it?

  Resting her cheek on one of the cloth feed bags full of groceries on the table, Efia hoped Clyde would be careful when he was done. She didn’t want him staining her dress.

  After a delicious meal of t
rout and new potatoes, and conversation among Jackson, Falcon and Thomas, Taye was anxious to escape. Cameron had taken her evening meal in her room, saying she was tired, but had insisted Taye join Thomas and the other men. Cameron didn’t want her to miss an opportunity to be with Thomas their first night together again.

  Taye would have preferred to have eaten with Cameron in the privacy of her bedchamber. Sitting with Falcon and Thomas, pretending nothing had happened in the kitchen between her and the Cherokee, had been difficult. Through the entire meal Taye had concentrated on Thomas, trying to anticipate his every need, while attempting to ignore Falcon. But it had been difficult to disregard him when he had stared at her through every course. Taye only prayed the other men hadn’t noticed.

  “Would you like to go for a walk outside?” Taye asked Thomas as he helped her slide from her dining chair.

  “Outside?” Thomas looked startled.

  Taye lowered her voice. “It’s a pleasant evening and…and we could be alone for a few minutes. I’ve missed you.” And she had. Thomas had become a good friend over the years. She appreciated his opinions and enjoyed general conversation with him, something many women could not say about their husbands-to-be. She only wished she had missed him the way Naomi had missed Noah.

  At the train station Naomi and Noah’s behavior had been totally improper. He leaped off the train before it even halted, ran across the platform and grabbed her up in his arms. They had kissed right there in front of everyone, mouths locked in passion. They had laughed together as if there was no one in the world but the two of them.

  Thomas had kissed Taye’s cheek as if she were a distant relative and inquired after her health. He hadn’t even chastised her for leaving Baltimore so suddenly without telling him of her intentions.

  Taye knew very well that Thomas was not the kind of man who would make a scene in such a public place as the train station. She only wished that he had at least wanted to sweep her in his arms. Just one hungry look from him would have contented her.

  “Please,” Taye whispered. “Just one loop through the garden. A lot has happened this week. I want to tell you.”

  “I suppose we could go for a walk.” He glanced with uncertainty in the direction of Falcon and Jackson, who were already retiring to the study for brandy. They were heatedly discussing the rebuilding of the railroad necessary to begin trade in the South again.

  The whole subject seemed utterly confusing and a bit overwhelming to Taye, but she could tell by the look on Thomas’s face that he wanted to go with the men and participate in the discussion. It hurt that she could be won out so easily by talk of a length of rail track.

  “Just a short walk,” she pressed, smoothing his sleeve. “And then I’ll leave you men to your talk of President Johnson’s Reconstruction plan.”

  His brown-eyed gaze settled on hers and he smiled kindly. “The fresh air will do me good. Should I send for a wrap for you?”

  She laughed. “Goodness, no. Have you forgotten how warm a July evening is in Mississippi?”

  Arm in arm they walked out through the open French doors in the parlor and onto the winding garden path that had been laid with small, pale stones.

  “I want to tell you how sorry I am for leaving Baltimore without telling you I was going.” Taye held his arm tightly, preventing him from pulling away if he tried. “I shouldn’t have lied to you that way.”

  “It’s quite all right. You forget how long I’ve known Cameron. She can be impulsive. And very persuasive when she wants to be.”

  “I know. That’s why I came—because of Cameron.” They walked around a flowering shrub and she inhaled its fragrance. “But I should have taken you into consideration. After all, we are going to be wed. Soon, I hope,” she dared, gazing at him.

  “Yes, well…considering the, um, circumstances, Jackson and I have agreed there won’t be a formal engagement ball.”

  “I told him it was fine,” she said quickly. “I don’t mind. Really I don’t. In fact, I think I prefer it this way. We should just get married quietly, with Jackson and Cameron present.”

  “I’m going to very busy these next few months, Taye. My father’s building is in shambles, and I’ve already received messages from two gentlemen wishing to employ my services. There’s no hurry, is there?”

  Taye halted on the stone path and turned to face Thomas. There was something about his tone of voice that was unsettling. Had he changed his mind? If so, why? She wanted to ask, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Perhaps because a tiny part of her nearly sighed in relief, and that made her feel immensely guilty.

  Maybe Thomas hadn’t changed his mind at all. Maybe it was just what he said, that he would be busy. No time to think of a new wife and setting up housekeeping.

  “Of course, there’s no hurry,” she rushed on. “Whatever you think best.”

  He smiled and lowered his head, but again kissed her cheek instead of her mouth.

  “Jackson has invited me to stay here at Atkins’ Way while my family’s home is cleaned, repainted and prepared. I told him I would have to check with you first. I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, my being so near. I know I was staying in the same home with you in Baltimore, but this could be months.”

  “No, no, that will be fine,” she said quickly. It will keep my mind off Falcon, she mused, guilt seeping into her veins again. Off the feel of his heat and the taste of his mouth on mine. Just thinking of him sent a tingling to her nether regions and a flush to her cheeks. “I know you’ll be busy in town but we can see each other in the mornings, perhaps, and then for the evening meal, of course.”

  He began to walk again, leading her along. “I fear I can’t make any promises. I’ll be very busy, but I will certainly do my best not to neglect you.”

  Taye nodded, afraid to speak for fear her disappointment would be plain in her voice. She didn’t simply want to not be neglected. She wanted Thomas to want to be with her. She wanted him to want to cover her face with kisses. To touch her, or at least fantasize about touching her.

  “Tell me of the plans for the offices in town,” Taye said, pushing such thoughts from her mind. “Do you think you have to put a new roof on?”

  Cameron sat on the edge of her bed in the light of a single bedside lamp and listened to the sound of Jackson’s boots as he walked down the hallway in the opposite direction of her room.

  He had come in to ask if she needed anything, but he did not indicate he had any desire to remain in her presence a moment longer than he had to. He hadn’t even closed the door when he came in.

  And now he had retired for the evening, to one of the guest bedrooms, and Cameron would sleep alone again.

  She fell back on the pillows, lying on top of the coverlet, and stared up at the dark ceilings. She knew she had put Jackson out of her bed to begin with, but she wanted him to want to be here with her. Even if they couldn’t make love right now. Of course, she couldn’t very well force him to stay, could she? And she would never beg him.

  With a sigh she rolled onto her side and reached for her father’s diary to read the next entry.

  It’s been three days since I brought the new slaves to Elmwood. Papa has conveniently placed me in charge of the new arrivals. I am to be sure they are properly housed, fed and put to work. “Slaves are to be treated well,” Papa reminded me this morning at the breakfast table. “They are expensive investments and must be treated like valuable property.”

  It occurred to me that he had not spoken of the fact that they were also human beings deserving of compassion and decency, but I didn’t dare speak up for fear he would delay my departure. I intended first to look in on the new arrivals, then Sukey. Saving the best of my day for last.

  I found her by the river, squatting near the water’s edge. She was washing out a piece of brightly colored fabric. It was not until I stood there at the woods line watching her that I realized she might even pay any mind to me. To her, I might be nothing more than another master.r />
  She must have heard me because she turned and looked up. I smiled. She smiled hesitantly in return and I knew that she too felt something between us. Some spark.

  “Hello,” I called cautiously, not wanting to scare her.

  “Hello,” she returned, her smile widening.

  And that was when I knew that, in time, she would love me.

  Cameron closed the diary and held it to her chest for a moment, feeling almost as if she were holding him again. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was getting late. She knew she should try to sleep, but she wasn’t sleepy yet. Just one more entry, she told herself.

  Today I have learned a good lesson in the mettle my Sukey is made of, she read in her father’s masculine handwriting. I came upon her completely by accident. I was riding to inspect one of the sugarcane fields and saw three women gathered alongside a field. Mr. Wright, one of our foremen, was holding another woman down on the ground. I heard Sukey’s voice even before I saw her. She spoke slowly, but her voice was strong. Defiant. She was admonishing Mr. Wright, telling him that he should be ashamed of himself.

  I heard the young slave woman on the ground cry out and saw her kick furiously at him, but she could not escape Mr. Wright because he had straddled her and pinned her to the grass, holding her hands over her head. I immediately dismounted with a shout. Attempting to use my father’s most authoritative voice, I demanded to know what was happening.

  One of the women called my name, but she was so distraught that I could barely understand her words. She was weeping profusely as were the others, all but my Sukey. When she saw me, there was a light in her eyes that made me want to reach out and take her in my arms. I did not, of course. I have to be very careful that no one suspect my feelings for her. I’m not sure at this point that even Sukey knows the depth of my feelings for her.

  I asked Sukey what had just transpired, and she replied that Mr. Wright had tried to take advantage of Sugar, the woman on the ground. Despite the intensity of the moment and my unease with the situation, I couldn’t help but notice that Sukey did not speak like the other slaves anymore. Her speech has improved tenfold since her arrival. Is it our talks late at night when we walk the woods? Has she been learning unbeknownst to me? If so, she is a quick study, and the mind behind that beautiful face is swifter than even I have suspected.