by Bobbi Smith
"Miss Brandy, it's good that you're home all safe and sound," Althea told her. "I'll go on now and give you some time together."
"Thanks, Althea. I'll talk more to you later."
"Yes, ma'am."
With that she left, and Brandy was alone with her mother.
"Tell me all about this trip. You were gone so long. I don't like it when we're apart this much, but I know you have to do it."
"Not any more, I don't," Brandy announced. She'd been trying desperately to think of a way to ease into the subject of her impromptu marriage, but finally decided the direct approach was best.
Libby frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I never have to leave you again."
Libby's expression turned incredulous and hopeful. "I don't understand...."
"Mama," Brandy said gently as she knelt before her and took her hands in hers. "While I was on this trip, I met a man.... His name is Rafe Marchand, and you'll be meeting him soon."
"What about this Rafe Marchand?"
"Mama ...Rafe and I were married while we were in St. Louis."
There was a stunned silence, just as Brandy knew there would be.
"Are you sure you made the right decision?" Libby worried. She knew her daughter was a smart girl, but sometimes things could be done in the heat of the moment that would be regretted later.
"Oh, yes, Mama. I made the right decision." Brandy spoke the truth this time.
"Good... good..."
It was then that she saw the tears silently streaking down her mother's cheeks.
"Mama?" Brandy was suddenly frightened, unsure of her mother's reaction. She didn't know if she was happy or sad.
"It's all right, sweetie. It's all right...." Libby hugged her to her heart. "This is the best news I've ever had. I've been praying and praying for a miracle to help you. My prayers have finally been answered, and his name is Rafe Marchand."
Brandy relaxed against her mother, allowing herself to feel young and small and protected for just that little while.
"Oh, Mama ...I can't wait for you to meet him. He's very handsome, and from what I understand, he owns a plantation outside of town. We're going to go live there.. .at Bellerive."
Libby's face was alight with an inner glow as she smiled at her only child. She caressed her daughter's cheek as Brandy gazed up at her adoringly. "You're a beautiful woman, Brandy. I am so glad you've found your man."
"So am I."
"When do I get to meet him? Soon, I hope. He must be wonderful to have won your heart so quickly."
"He's a very special man, Mama. I hope you like him."
"If you love him, I'll love him, too," Libby stated firmly. "After all, he had the good sense to marry my daughter, didn't he? How could I not like him?"
They shared another mother-daughter hug.
"He'll be here shortly. I told him to give us a little while alone so I could tell you all about our whirlwind courtship and everything."
"So tell me everything!"
"But we have to get you packed, too. We'll be leaving for Bellerive as soon as he gets here."
"Today?"
"Today. Tomorrow morning, you'll be waking up at Bellerive Plantation."
"I truly can't believe it! I tell you what-get out my one valise, and we'll pack while you tell me the whole story. It must be wonderful."
"Oh, it is."
And as Brandy talked, she packed her mother's things, preparing both of them for a brand-new life.
It was over half an hour later when Raf e and Claire arrived at the small house. Feeling as he did about mothers, Rafe was not particularly looking forward to this encounter. He descended from the carriage, then helped Claire down.
He eyed the neighborhood critically, seeing how rundown it was and understanding more and more of what Ben had told him about Brandy's background. It might not be a fine home, but it seemed they kept it neat and clean.
"I'm looking forward to meeting Brandy's mother," Claire said eagerly. "Aren't you? She must be a special person to have raised Brandy."
"That's true," Rafe remarked noncommittally as they approached the dwelling. He knocked at the door and it was opened almost immediately by Brandy.
"I'm so glad you're here," she said, greeting them with a smile as she held the door wide for them to enter. "My mother's excited about meeting you."
Claire entered first and Rafe followed. He hadn't been sure what to expect. From Brandy's tale of her mother's failing health, he had almost expected her to be bedridden, but the aura of vitality about the fragile-looking, gray-haired woman who stood across the room surprised him.
"Mama, I want you to meet my friend Claire she's the one I told you all about and this is Rafe." Brandy led Claire and Rafe over to meet her.
"Claire, Brandy has told me all about you and your poker playing. I think you're going to need a few more lessons to keep up with my girl," Libby said with a teasing smile.
Claire fell in love with Libby O'Neill immediately, and she pressed a warm kiss to her weathered cheek. "I'd give anything to be as good as Brandy is, and she's trying to teach me. Maybe one of these days I'll beat her."
They laughed, and Libby turned her attention to Rafe.
"So, Rafe Marchand, you've fallen in love with my daughter, have you?" Libby asked as she tilted her head back to peer up at him.
"Yes, ma'am, I have," he answered, and for some reason, even though he knew he was doing what Brandy wanted, he felt really rotten for deceiving her mother.
"Come a little bit closer so I can get a good look at you," she insisted.
Rafe stepped closer, and Libby studied him thoughtfully.
"From what I can see of you, you're as handsome as Brandy said you were."
At her frank assessment, Rafe actually found himself blushing a little. "Why, thank you."
"No need to thank me, young man. You'll find as you get to know me better that I always speak my mind and I always tell the truth. Life is much easier that way. People always know where you stand, and you never have to remember that you lied and what it was you lied about."
"I'll remember that." The strangest wave of guilt swept over him, but he shrugged it off. The truth as she was to know it was that he loved her daughter and had married her so quickly because he couldn't live without her.
"You're going to take good care of my girl, aren't you?.
Yes, ma' am."
"Good." She reached out and took his hand, feeling the strength and power there. She patted it in a warm, loving gesture as she motioned for him to stoop down to her. When he did, she kissed his cheek as she said to her daughter, "You've got yourself a good one, Brandy. I understand why you married him as quickly as you did."
"So you like him?" Brandy asked lightly, smiling as she looked from her husband to her mother.
"Oh, yes. I think Rafe and I are going to be very good friends," Libby said confidently.
Rafe wasn't sure what to think about this little woman. She was unlike any female he'd ever met before. There was something about her, about her kind touch, her gentle words, that made him want to be his best for her and made him want to make sure that no harm came her way. It was a foreign emotion for him, this feeling of wanting to safeguard a woman, and it puzzled him. Still, her overwhelming acceptance of him at face value touched him in a way he'd never been touched before, too, and left him half smiling as he gazed down at her.
"Mama's things are all ready to go," Brandy spoke up, gesturing toward the small pile of belongings that were her mother's life's possessions. "I sent word to Althea of our plans and an extra week's pay for letting her go on such short notice. I also notified the landlord that we were leaving. We can be on our way as soon as you're ready."
"Let's go then," Rafe said, picking up Libby's things and taking them out to the driver. He came back inside as the women were taking one last look around.
"Is it a long ride?" Libby asked Rafe.
"We should be there in about an hour and a half"
"Before dark, then."
"Yes."
"Good, I'm interested to see what your home looks like," she said.
"`Our' home," he corrected, though he didn't know why.
Libby looked up at him again. "Will you do me the honor of escorting me to our carriage, sir?"
"It would be my pleasure," he agreed without hesitation, surprising Brandy.
Libby tucked her hand in the bend of his arm and looking like a queen, allowed Rafe to lead her to the carriage and hand her inside.
Brandy and Claire shared a look as they hesitated a moment, then followed.
"I think she likes him," Claire said with certainty.
"But does he like her?" Brandy couldn't help worrying, knowing what she did about his past.
"How could he not?" she asked. "Your mother's precious. You're very blessed to have her."
"I know. She's the wisest woman I've ever met, not to mention the sweetest."
"She takes after you, does she?"
Brandy laughed. "Hardly. I think I must have tested her good nature sorely as a child, but spunk is a good thing to have sometimes."
"You wouldn't be where you are today without it," Claire agreed.
Brandy went silent at her friend's observation, wondering if being where she was, was good or bad. They climbed into the carriage, assisted by Rafe, and he settled in beside Brandy for the ride to Bellerive.
"Tell me about your family, Rafe," Libby asked as their journey began. She wanted to learn more about this man who was now her son-in-law.
"There's not much to tell, Mrs. O'Neill," he began.
Libby stopped him right there. "Just one minute, young man. You are officially family now. What is this `Mrs. O'Neill' business?"
Rafe actually looked like a surprised and chastened schoolboy at her scolding.
"Call me Libby or even Mother, if you like. But Mrs. O'Neill? Never."
"Yes, ma'am."
She gave him a look. He grinned at her, completely taken off guard by her personality. He'd never met a mother like her before.
"Yes, Libby," he answered respectfully.
"That's better," she said sweetly. "Now, about your family..."
Rafe answered succinctly, "My parents are dead, and I was an only child."
"Ah, but now you have Brandy," she said. "You're not alone any more."
"That's right," he told her, taking Brandy's hand in his and smiling down at his bride.
Brandy looked up at him and gave him a grateful smile. He was as good as his word.
Conversation remained general as they made the trip to the plantation. Libby took an immediate liking to Claire, too.
"My little girl has worked long and hard trying to make things better for us. It's wonderful that you're helping her this way, and it was wonderful of Rafe to think of hiring you." She looked at Rafe, then asked Claire, "Has Brandy given you much trouble?"
Claire stifled a grin at Brandy's quick look. "No, Brandy was fine. Now, on the other hand, her poker lessons with me haven't gone quite as well as my lessons with her. I'm not nearly the quick study that she is. I'm afraid I'm woefully lacking in talent in that area."
"That's all right. If we play any more, it won't be for money. It will just be for fun," Brandy said.
"I enjoy playing just for fun, too," Rafe added, giving Brandy a knowing look as he remembered their wedding night.
Libby looked contentedly at her daughter. "You're very good at poker, darling, but I always worried about you being on that steamboat. You're going to be so much happier with Rafe. I just know it."
Brandy didn't answer, for she didn't want to boldly lie to her mother. Happier with Rafe? Hardly. The days before their fateful card game seemed unreal to her now. Since then, her life had changed so dra matically that she almost didn't recognize herself any more. She was a lady of quality now...Mrs. Rafe Marchand.
It was over an hour later when Rafe announced that they were almost at Bellerive.
"How much farther?" Brandy asked, surveying the surrounding fields with interest.
"We've been on Bellerive land for the last ten minutes, but the house is still a few miles ahead. Once we're on the drive, you'll be able to see the house off to the right in the distance."
When they turned up the drive a short time later, they were impressed by the way the tall oaks arched magnificently overhead. As the carriage emerged from the trees, Brandy caught sight of the plantation house, and her heart went to her throat.
Off to the right, set in majestic splendor among another lush grove of oaks, was Bellerive. Three stories tall, glistening white in the light of the late afternoon, it was a testimony to the glory of Greek Revival architecture.
Brandy gasped. "Oh, Rafe.. .Your home is beautiful."
Claire was staring in silence, while Libby sat back, knowing there was no point in her making the effort to see anything just yet.
Rafe turned his gaze to the house that held so many memories for him. He knew it was an impressive piece of architecture, and he admired it for that, but Brandy looked so awestruck that he tried to put from him the memory of his mother's betrayal and his father's death within those walls, and see the house through the eyes of someone who had never been inside it and did not know its history. For an instant, he recalled how excited he used to be coming home, the warmth of his father's counsel, the joy of an unburdened childhood, and he smiled.
"This is home," he said simply.
But as he was gazing at the house, the front doors opened. He expected to see one of the servants come out. He was totally unprepared for the sight of Mirabelle coming across the veranda, her arm lifted in greeting as if she were the mistress of the place welcoming her husband home.
Brandy saw the woman and glanced over at Rafe. She was surprised by his strange expression. He seemed to be scowling, and a muscle was working in his jaw.
"Who's that?" she asked innocently, thinking it had to be someone close to him.
"Mirabelle," he answered tightly.
"The same Mirabelle you and Marc were talking about on board the steamboat?"
"The same."
Brandy and Claire exchanged looks as they waited for the coming confrontation.
"This should be interesting," Rafe said with a growl as the carriage pulled to a stop.
"Rafe, darling!" Mirabelle exclaimed as she saw him step down from the carriage.
Before he could answer, she was down the steps and into his arms. She'd been thinking about him the whole time he'd been away and had merely stopped in at the house today to see if there had been any word on the date of his return. It was a delightful surprise to find that he was arriving while she was there. Surely, fate was putting them together for a reason, and she hoped to be celebrating that reason all night in his arms.
"Mirabelle..." was all he had time to murmur as she kissed him full on the mouth.
"I think I understand what Rafe and Marc were talking about the other night," Claire murmured to Brandy inside the carriage as she watched the other woman in action.
"I think I should take things in hand what do you think?"
"Excellent idea," Libby agreed. Mirabelle's display was too flagrant to be missed by anyone.
"Darling," Brandy drawled as she climbed out of the vehicle on her own. "Do we have guests?"
It all happened so fast that Rafe had little time to escape. As Brandy made her move, he grasped Mirabelle by her upper arms and held her away from him.
11 'Darling'?" Mirabelle demanded. Her face still flushed from the kiss, she looked past Rafe to where a beautiful woman was climbing down out of his carriage.
"Hello," Brandy went on casually as if it were an everyday occurrence to have women brazenly kissing her husband in public. "I'm Brandy Marchand- Rafe's wife. And you're-7
Rafe released Mirabelle as if he'd been burned. Mirabelle's mouth dropped open as she stared at the perfectly dressed, perfectly coiffed, absolutely beautiful young woman who'd just appeared before her. Her sh
ock lasted only an instant, though, for it turned almost immediately to fury. Outraged, she turned her glare on Rafe.
"Rafe, honey, who is this person?" Mirabelle asked as she put a possessive hand on his arm.
"This is my wife Brandy, Mirabelle. Brandy, I'd like you to meet Mirabelle Chandler... an old friend." Rafe slipped out of his "old friend's" reach.
"An old friend..." Brandy emphasized the word as she moved forward and took Rafe's arm in a casually intimate gesture. "Hello, Mirabelle, it's so nice to meet you after all Rafe and Marc have told me about you."
"Your wife?" Mirabelle recovered enough to turn on Rafe. "Is this some kind of joke? Who is this woman?"
"I assure you this is no joke," he stated with authority. "Brandy and I were married in St. Louis."
"You're married?" she repeated, looking from the young woman at his side to Rafe.
"Very married," Rafe told her, smiling down at Brandy with a look of affection that left no doubt of the state of their relationship. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
Mirabelle was trembling with the force of her anger. She was about to lose her temper completely when she heard another voice from the carriage.
"Rafe, dear, would you help me down? I'd love to meet your friend Mirabelle," Libby called to him.
He turned to the old lady, and with two hands at her waist set her lightly to the ground.
"You are such a dear boy," Libby said, patting his arm affectionately before turning to the other woman. "It's so nice to meet you, Mirabelle. And what a wonderful welcome-home surprise to find one of Rafe's friends here waiting to greet us."
"Who are you?" Mirabelle demanded haughtily, staring at the plainly dressed little old woman in disdain.
"I am Rafe's mother-in-law. You may call me Libby. All my friends do," she said happily.
"You're his mother-in-law? Rafe Marchand...!" Mirabelle ground out his name as she turned on him only to see him helping another lovely woman out of the carriage.
"And, Mirabelle, this is Claire, Brandy and her mother's traveling companion. Claire, Mirabelle Chandler."
"Ooooh! I hate you, Rafe!" she hissed as she took one last look around, then stalked off to where her own carriage was waiting. She yelled in a very unladylike fashion for her driver and climbed into the vehicle unassisted to await him.
