To Whisper Her Name

by Tamera Alexander

  After General Meeks had left yesterday afternoon, Olivia had slipped in to see Elizabeth, but she’d been sleeping and had slept through the night. Even now, her color was pale, and Olivia didn’t like the gauntness in her face. Perhaps if she asked Rachel, they could try another tea …

  But even as she thought it, she knew better. And she felt so helpless. Just as she had when she’d watched her own mother die. Life was full of choices. But sometimes, as she was learning, there were no choices given. God, in his kind-yet-unfathomable nature, narrowed the choices down to one. And most times, it wasn’t the one she would have chosen. But mostly, Olivia had learned — the hard way — that some choices, once missed, were gone forever.

  Susanna set the tray on the bed. “Well, I got me some warm chicken soup and biscuits slathered with butter. Brought my peach preserves too. That’ll give her a good temptin’.”

  Elizabeth looked between them as if silently challenging their conviction. Then the concerned expression returned. “But, Livvy, General Meeks had an obligation to you. He and the general shook hands … That’s as binding to my husband as any contract.”

  “But I released General Meeks of his obligation, Aunt. As I told you at the very first, I have no desire to …” She stumbled over the words, knowing they weren’t true. Not anymore. Not since Ridley. “To be married again.”

  “Hmmmph.”

  Olivia and Elizabeth both looked over at Susanna, who glanced up, obviously feigning surprise and doing a very poor job of it.

  “What, ma’ams? There be somethin’ wrong?”

  Giving her a warning glance, Olivia continued, forcing a cheeriness to her voice she didn’t feel, aware of Susanna’s discerning gaze. “Belle Meade is my home now, Aunt. I’m going to stay right here with you. And I’m going to help you get better!” But even as she said it, tears revealed the truth. Olivia rose and pretended to smooth the bed covers.

  “My dearest Livvy …”

  The soft whisper was Olivia’s undoing. At Elizabeth’s urging, she returned to her side.

  Elizabeth touched a curl at Olivia’s temple. “So much like your mother. Having you here has been like having her with me again. But, Livvy … It seems we’ve both been trying to take care of each other. Perhaps a little too well. After all, not everything is up to us.”

  Olivia saw the look Elizabeth exchanged with Susanna.

  “Livvy, dear …” Elizabeth’s lips trembled. “I’m dying. Oh …” She waved a hand. “The doctor hasn’t said anything to me, and I haven’t told the general, but … I can feel it. And I’ve known it for some time. That’s why it’s been such a wonderful adventure to watch you teaching at the freedmen’s school. It was like living a dream through you.”

  Olivia looked over at Susanna, who gave her an almost imperceptible shake of her head, yet whose expression bore not a trace of surprise.

  Elizabeth took her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Livvy, I have a little money put aside. I’m going to give it to you, and I want you to go somewhere — Charleston or Savannah, maybe even Richmond — and start over again. Start a new life, dear. Let me have the gift of knowing you’re doing that before I go. Just as you’ve given my Mary wings, let me help give you yours.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I can’t leave you.”

  A peacefulness slipped into Elizabeth’s expression. “Remember the dream, Livvy? The one I told you about?”

  Olivia nodded.

  “I had it again. Last night.”

  Olivia’s throat tightened. “Was the door … unlocked this time?”

  “No,” Elizabeth whispered. “It was open.”

  Chapter

  SIXTY

  June 10, 1867

  Olivia turned and took a last, lingering look behind her at Belle Meade, the sun barely touching the horizon, the grounds still quiet but for the birds awakening the dawn.

  “You ready, Missus Aberdeen?”

  “Yes, Uncle Bob … I am.” And she was.

  Over the past two days — and after Elizabeth’s repeated prodding — she’d made ready for the trip and said her good-byes. Rachel, Susanna, Betsy, and Chloe had made pan after pan of beaten biscuits yesterday. For Ridley, they said. And for their trip west. Olivia held fast to that hope.

  General Harding’s reaction to her decision to leave had been less cordial. He’d been upset about General Meeks’s pending nuptials — mainly that they weren’t with her — but his frustration lessened once he learned that General Meeks still wanted to invest in their business venture. But mostly, he seemed relieved that Elizabeth finally knew her days were numbered … Olivia witnessed a resignation — an acceptance — in the man that she hadn’t seen before. She’d underestimated how much he’d dreaded telling his wife the truth.

  When she’d said her final goodbye to him last night, he’d seemed almost relieved to see her go, which she understood. After all, it hadn’t been his idea for her to come to Belle Meade. She’d always known that. And yet, he had still allowed her to come.

  She turned to the buggy, about to climb in, when she noticed a cloth bag in the seat and looked over at Uncle Bob.

  “Just some things people wanted you to have.”

  She picked up the bag, which had some weight to it, and accepted Uncle Bob’s help up to the seat. She couldn’t help but notice the horses. What beautiful animals they were. All chestnut sleekness, muscle, and grace. Magnificent creatures. If she found Ridley — no, when she found him — she had a request for him. It was time to face a very old fear, one she knew he could help her conquer.

  As Uncle Bob snapped the reins, she held on with her free hand, then purposely let go.

  Uncle Bob was quiet beside her, and she knew he missed Ridley, probably as much as she did, in his own way. “That cabin’s way too quiet now,” he’d told her a couple of days ago. “Never knew how much that man talked ‘til he left. Lawd, it’s a wonder I ever got anythin’ done with him jabberin’ on the whole time.”

  But she saw the fondness in his eyes and the way he kept looking back over at the cabin steps — just like she did — where Ridley used to sit.

  She didn’t know if what she was doing was brave or the most foolish thing she’d ever done. The only thing she knew was that she had one last chance. And she was taking it. Lord, let him still be there. Help me find him. And please, Lord … Let his heart toward me remain unchanged.

  Curious as to the weight in the bag, she peeked inside, and when she saw the rolling pin, she giggled and pulled it out.

  Uncle Bob smiled. “Betsy’s always sayin’ … Rollin’ pin got two uses … beatin’ biscuits and beatin’ husbands!”

  They both laughed.

  Next, Olivia pulled out a leather pouch. Rachel … She opened it and breathed in the herbal scent before closing it again. She peered down into the bag and saw pieces of paper in the bottom. She took one out. Then another. Letters and notes from the servants. Her students. And even one from Mary. What treasures … She tucked them safely back inside. There’d be time enough to read them later.

  She sneaked a look beside her, wondering why Uncle Bob had never attended one of her classes or asked for help in learning to read. But she figured he had his reasons and kept the question to herself.

  The buggy rounded a bend in the road, and Olivia looked up. She instantly recognized the rock wall up ahead where the carriage had crashed. As they approached the exact spot, a tiny part of her almost thought that if she hoped hard enough, Ridley might be standing there waiting for her, at the place where they’d first met. But she knew better. Those kinds of endings were the stuff of stagecoach novels, not real life.

  The train station was surprisingly crowded this early and by the time she purchased her ticket and stood on the platform to board, her fears wrestled against hope. She’d ridden on a train before, years earlier, but never this far and never with no one waiting for her on the other end.

  “I’m frightened, Uncle Bob.”

  He peered at her beneath the ri
m of his worn black derby. “Then you’s prob’ly right where the Lawd wants you to be, Missus Aberdeen. He always doin’ things to make me shake my head and wonder.” He smiled, his brown eyes warm and certain.

  The train whistle blew in quick succession and steam billowed from the engine down the track. Olivia gripped her ticket, looking back at him.

  “Thank you, Uncle Bob … For everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Oh, I ain’t done nothin’, ma’am. Just carried you to the train station is all.”

  She eyed him until he smiled.

  “You welcome, ma’am. And I thank you too, for all you done for us. Now …” He nodded toward the porter waiting to help her board. “Go search out your new life, Missus Aberdeen. And when you find him” — he winked — “you be sure and tell him how proud Uncle Bob is of him and what he done.”

  “I will,” she whispered.

  Then on impulse, knowing some people wouldn’t consider it proper, she offered Bob Green her hand and was delighted when he kissed it.

  Six days, four trains — two with “unforeseen” mechanical problems — and three hotels later, Olivia wandered the streets of St. Joseph, Missouri, weary, hot, and sooty. Satchel in hand and with the bustle of her new dress sagging, she never dreamed so many people would be living — seemingly thriving — this far west. Everywhere she looked men, women, and children crowded the streets along with wagons, horses, oxen, mules, and endless barrels and crates of supplies. It felt as if everyone had suddenly decided to go west.

  She searched every face she passed, praying to see those blue eyes staring back at her and that wry grin she loved tipping one side of his mouth. She reached into her skirt pocket, making sure the seashell was still there. Drawing strength from it, she willed it to act as a compass, of sorts, and lead her to him.

  Uncle Bob had told her to check the liveries first. “Everybody headin’ west gotta have a wagon,” he’d said. So that’s what she’d done. Two liveries so far, with two to go, according to the train porter. But so far, no one at either place had heard the name Ridley Cooper. Still, she refused to give in, no matter how much it looked like fear and defeat might win.

  She spotted the next livery at the far end of the street on the opposite side and dodged wagons, stagecoaches, and numerous animal “deposits” to reach the boardwalk, all while praying beneath her breath. If not this one, Lord, then the next.

  Her back and shoulder muscles ached from endless hours spent on the train either being deluged with cinders and soot or waiting for the engine to be repaired. But she had to admit, even with the mishaps and inconveniences, the trip had been exhilarating. And to think she’d made the journey on her own! All by herself …

  A tender yet timeless chord resonated against the thought, and Olivia slowed her steps on the boardwalk. Standing there in the midst of the hustle and the noise, she silently acknowledged the gentle yet firm reminder: Never once had she walked alone. Never once had God left her. He was so faithful, even when she was not. Even when she couldn’t sense his presence, he was there. The past year had shown her that.

  She lifted her eyes. The name on the aging shingle above the open double doors was faded but still legible: Ashford’s Livery. The first thing she noticed upon entering was how neat and tidy the tools were hung on the wall. Everything had its place. She liked that.

  A girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen stood oiling a saddle, intent on her task.

  Olivia looked around for the owner but didn’t see anyone else. “Pardon me …”

  The girl turned. Her smile came easily. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t hear you come in. What can I help you with? You need a horse?” She motioned toward the back. “We have some real gentle mares and a couple of fine geldings.”

  Olivia couldn’t help but admire the girl’s assertiveness and spunk. Especially in one so young. “Actually, I just arrived in town, and I’m looking for someone. A Southern gentlemen.” She warmed thinking of how true that was. “A man by the name of Ridley Cooper. He might have purchased a wagon from your establishment. He’s heading west in a few days.”

  The girl shook her head. “Can’t say I know that name, ma’am.” Her expression hinted at apology. “But what you said just now pretty well accounts for almost everybody who walks through those doors.”

  Realizing how true that was and feeling foolish for not having thought of it herself, Olivia felt her spirits sag. “You’re right, of course.” She looked around again. She didn’t want to slight the girl but also didn’t want to leave any stone unturned. “Is the owner of the livery here, by chance? Where I might speak with him?”

  The girl nodded, not seeming the least offended. “That’d be my father. He’s in the back. But he’ll be out directly.” She went back to her polishing.

  Olivia laid her satchel aside, admiring the girl’s tenacity. “You’re doing a very good job.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I can make you one too, if you want.”

  Olivia looked at the saddle, then back at her. “You made that?”

  As soon as she said it, she wished she could take it back, but the girl just grinned, nodding.

  “My father taught me, ma’am. He’s real good at it.” She stepped to one side as though inviting Olivia to take a closer look.

  Olivia ran a hand over the fine leather and fringe along the bottom. The detail work was superb. If General Harding saw this, he would order one for every thoroughbred at Belle Meade. “It’s beautiful.”

  The girl’s smile deepened, and she stood a little taller. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m making this one for a real pretty horse in the back.”

  Olivia noticed something carved into the leather flap and felt a quickening inside her. “What is this?” she whispered, pointing.

  “Oh.” The girl picked up a leather tool. “I’m almost done with it. It’s a bird. Like one you’d see near the water. The man who ordered the saddle last week wanted something special. I told him I can do most anything. I drew this out for him and he liked it.”

  Olivia leaned closer, looking at the bird, its wings outstretched as if soaring over the water, and the same resonance she’d felt moments earlier returned with greater urgency. Oh, please … let it be him.

  Her pulse ticking up a notch, she looked toward the back of the livery. “Would you mind showing me this ‘real pretty’ horse? The one you’re making this for?”

  “Sure.”

  They started toward the back of the livery when a door opened and a man stepped through.

  “McKenna, would you help me with …” He saw Olivia and stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we had a patron.”

  “Papa, I’m taking this lady back to see —”

  “Don’t let her talk your ears off, ma’am.” The man looked at Olivia. “She’ll do it if you let her.”

  He didn’t crack a smile when he said it, but his young daughter did, which told Olivia much about their relationship.

  Following the girl down the line of stalls, Olivia’s hope mounted with each step, even while the taint of past disappointment cautioned against it. She breathed in the familiar smells and a pang of homesickness for Belle Meade washed over her.

  McKenna stopped and gestured. And Olivia held her breath as she looked around the corner. Then broke into a grin.

  Stretching for miles on the prairie west of town, hundreds of pristine white wagon canopies billowed in the afternoon breeze. And for a moment, all Olivia could do was stare, trying to take it all in. The excitement was almost tangible, the dreams waiting to be pursued hovering in the warm air over the camp, tugging at unseen reins.

  Mouthwatering aromas drifted from cook fires as she walked past wagon after wagon. William Ashford had told her to search the north side of the camp, but she’d never dreamed of anything like this.

  After an hour of searching and asking, overly warm and exhausted, lost in the maze of wagons and people, she slipped off her jacket and draped it over her left arm, arranging it just so. She slipped th
e shell from her pocket. Two weeks since she’d seen him. Yet it felt like a lifetime. Seeing the horses told her Ridley was still here. But it didn’t answer the question still lingering in her heart, the fear pressing at her chest.

  Would he welcome her after the choice she’d made at Belle Meade?

  She walked on and soon came to the end of the wagons. All that was left was boundless prairie and sky. Knowing it was silly, she shielded her eyes against the sun and looked as far west as she could see. But … no Rocky Mountains.

  “Olivia?”

  Hearing the hoarse whisper behind her, and the love and hope wrapped up in the sound of her name, in that voice, she turned. She scarcely had a chance to take in the sight of him before Ridley took her in his arms. She clung to him as though he might disappear in a dream if she let go. He whispered something against her hair — a prayer, she thought — but she couldn’t be sure.

  Still holding her, he drew back slightly, touching her face, her hair as though trying to make sure she was real. “You don’t know how many nights I’ve sat right here, staring out into the emptiness and praying you were with me.”

  Seeing the emotion in his eyes only encouraged hers. “I wanted to go with you so badly, but —”

  “I know,” he whispered, understanding in his tone. His expression sobered. “Is Elizabeth …”

  “I don’t know.” She teared up again. “If not yet … soon.”

  He searched her gaze. “And yet you came.”

  She ran a finger over his stubbled jaw, drinking in the sight of him. “You’re my life, Ridley Cooper. I don’t ever want you to leave me again.”

  “That’s not a difficult promise to make, Olivia Aberdeen.”

  He kissed her, long and deep, and Olivia lost herself in him. Even more. Then remembering, she smiled.

  “Ridley,” she whispered against his mouth.