Atlanta

by Sara Orwig

  “How about going down to breakfast and I’ll tell you about your uncle and aunt? You’re going to see them today. I’ve written them about you, Michael.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you have two cousins: Daniella, who is five, and Jared, who is three.” Fortune dropped his hand on Michael’s shoulder, and they headed toward the door. He held it open for her, and she went through with Michael.

  At the door to the hotel dining room, she paused and placed her hand on Fortune’s arm. “It costs dreadfully much to eat in there. I’m certain a town as large as this one will have a less expensive place.”

  “Claire, I’m paying for things now, so you let me worry about the bills,” he said with amusement. He took her arm and steered her into the dining room as a man in a white coat came forward to seat them.

  When the waiter placed a menu in front of Claire, Fortune reached across the table to take it from her. “Let me order for you, and you’ll enjoy your breakfast more.”

  Disconcerted, she gazed at him and then shrugged. “Fine. Most anything besides rabbit, apples, or cold biscuits sounds wonderful.”

  He smiled, and she felt a flare of hope that they would be friends and the anger he had shown toward her would vanish.

  During breakfast they answered Michael’s questions, and finally they went upstairs to gather their things to go. As they traveled along the river road and approached New Orleans, her trepidation over meeting his family began to rise. She wondered what they would think of her. Glancing at her dress, she felt rumpled after the days of travel. The blue calico that had started the day freshly laundered and ironed now was wrinkled and damp, clinging to her arms and back. And she wondered if the O’Briens would dislike her, because it would be obvious that there was no love between Fortune and her.

  As they rode into the city, she pressed her lips together hoping Michael didn’t remember or say anything about the places they had stayed when they had lived in New Orleans. Along the waterfront were big ships with tall masts; she saw the saloon where she had sung, remembering men trying to fondle her, men wanting to take her out. Her gaze slid to Fortune, and she wondered about him. His only touches had been casual, never taking liberties or attempting to, as many men often tried to do. When he kissed her, though, he hadn’t been casual. The thought of his kisses still sent heat rushing through her, making her draw in a deep breath.

  Riding alongside the muddy Mississippi River, they reached the open market with its long array of stalls. Tempting smells of melons mingled with smells of fish, and she saw the fresh catches of crawfish. Servants in black dresses with white aprons shopped with women in silks with parasols while fisherman moved through the crowd and vendors hawked sweets. Fortune dismounted to make purchases. She and Michael followed along while Fortune asked Michael what he wanted.

  When they left the market, the horses were laden with Fortune’s purchases. Doubling back the way they had come, they turned to ride down Decatur through the Vieux Carré and crossed Canal to turn on St. Charles in the American section. The homes were breathtakingly elegant, and she glanced again at Fortune, realizing how much he was going to change Michael’s life as well as hers.

  When they passed mansions set back behind high iron fences, her worries mounted. In minutes Fortune turned up a winding drive, and her breath caught as she caught sight of a grand establishment.

  The Greek Revival house was spectacular with eight large Ionic columns across the front. Beds of bright pink and purple crepe myrtles competed with roses in bloom. Fortune barely gave it a glance as he rode up the drive.

  Suddenly the door burst open, and a woman with golden hair and large dark eyes came running out. “Fortune!”

  He dismounted, hugging her as a small child dashed out behind her.

  Looking at the woman’s elegant pink moiré dress trimmed in lace and rose ribbons, Claire felt shabbier than ever. She halted as a groomsman came forward to take the horses. Michael dismounted, standing shyly and watching Fortune.

  As the woman stepped back, her gaze ran over Claire and Michael and she paused, staring at the boy and smiling. “Fortune?” She looked at him with curiosity.

  “I want you to meet the woman I intend to marry,” Fortune said, taking Claire’s arm. He dropped his other hand onto Michael’s shoulder.

  “Claire, this is my sister-in-law, Chantal O’Brien. Chantal, I want you to meet Claire Dryden.”

  “How do you do?” Claire said while Fortune’s words the woman I intend to marry filled her with warmth.

  “I’m glad to have you here,” Chantal said.

  “And this is my son, Michael.”

  Claire heard the note of love and pride in Fortune’s voice as he gazed at Michael, who smiled up at Chantal. She hugged him lightly. “Michael, we’re so happy to get to know you. Here’s your cousin Daniella,” she said, urging a blond child forward. The girl had large dark eyes, her coloring like her mother’s, but Claire could see a resemblance to Fortune in the child’s wide forehead, straight nose, and prominent cheekbones. “And here is Jared O’Brien,” she said, motioning to a small blond boy who bore little resemblance to Michael.

  “Come inside. I’ve already sent someone to fetch Rafe.”

  “We’ve been traveling a long time, so one thing we’d like, Chantal, is a chance to clean up. I hope that brother of mine has an extra shirt. I want to burn what I’ve been wearing. And I hope we can get a dress made quickly for Claire. We had to leave Natchez in a rush.”

  “Of course we can do those things! Come inside.” She linked her arm through Claire’s and Fortune’s to go up the steps. A servant held the door and smiled in greeting.

  Claire walked through the most elegant house she had ever seen. She could remember fancy homes of friends of her father’s, but nothing like this. Her own home had been comfortable but plain. She looked at oil paintings and Queen Anne furniture as they went through a wide hall and climbed the stairs.

  “I’ll wait for Rafe,” Fortune said from the foot of the stairs. He watched the ladies climb the stairs, Michael and his niece and nephew trailing up behind them. He turned to roam through the house, finally stepping outside on the veranda to wait for his brother. In minutes he saw a carriage coming down the street with a servant and Rafe. As they turned into the drive, Fortune hurried down the steps. Rafe jumped down from the carriage while the servant headed toward the back.

  His brother strode toward him, looking slightly thicker through the shoulders, his blue eyes sparkling, his black hair tangled by the breeze. “Fortune!” Rafe hugged his brother who clasped him and pulled away.

  “We’ve ridden hard as hell and need to get home to Atlanta, but I wanted to stop in New Orleans to see you.”

  “Thank God you did. I hope I can get you to stay for several weeks. And who is we? Come in and we’ll have a drink.”

  “I’ve got my son with me.”

  Rafe looked at him sharply. “You found him!”

  “Yes. And I intend to marry the woman who had him.”

  Rafe grinned and slapped him on the back. “We can write Cal and have a wedding here! Unless her family—”

  “Wait a minute. It’s not what you think.” They went up the steps and crossed the veranda. Inside the house, Rafe motioned toward the library. He closed the doors behind them, crossing to a table to pour them both glasses of red wine.

  “Now tell me.”

  “She’s raised Michael, and he loves her. I saw I couldn’t take him away from her, so I told her I would marry her.”

  The sparkle went out of Rafe’s eyes, and his expression became solemn as he stared at his brother. Feeling an argument brewing, Fortune gazed back steadily.

  “Fortune, don’t marry if you don’t love her. You’ll make a hell on earth for yourself.”

  “I think it will be all right,” he said, swirling the wine and moving restlessly toward the fireplace to rest his elbow against the mantel. The room was filled with books, and he longed to build a house for Mich
ael and see that he had books available.

  “You were in love with Marilee, so you know what a marriage with love is,” Rafe argued, shedding his coat. “You won’t be happy.”

  “What can I do with her except marry her? Michael loves her. To him she’s his mother.”

  They stared at each other, Rafe with furrowed brow. He shook his head. “Do anything except marry her. When you wrote me you were going to find her, you didn’t sound as if you would ever consider marrying her.”

  “I hadn’t seen her with Michael then. I’ve traveled day and night with her, so I’ve seen her under the worst circumstances. I think we can both tolerate this marriage, and it’ll be good for Michael.”

  “If it isn’t good, it’ll be worse for him later. Children are sensitive to their parents. If both of you hate each other, he’ll know and he’ll suffer from it.”

  “I’m marrying her, Rafe. I’m not going to separate them.”

  Rafferty studied him and Fortune returned his gaze. Finally Rafe nodded. “Very well. Do you want to have the wedding here?”

  “Yes. We’ve been staying in hotels as man and wife—” He saw Rafe’s brows raise. “Not living as man and wife. She knows nothing about men.”

  “You wrote me she had worked in saloons.”

  “She’s sung in saloons, and I thought the same thing you’re thinking, but she’s as innocent as a child. Pinkerton’s told me there had been no men and I didn’t believe them, but I do now. It’s not difficult to tell an innocent woman from an experienced one.”

  “She may want your money.”

  With a flash of white teeth Fortune laughed and shook his head. “There you couldn’t be more wrong. This woman has the first few cents she earned, but she doesn’t want me to spend mine on her. She doesn’t want me to spend it at all.”

  “Fortune, where women are concerned, you may be a little inexperienced. I’ve never known a woman who didn’t want to spend money.”

  “Take her out and try to buy her something and see what a battle you have. I’ve traveled with her, and she didn’t want me to buy myself things. Only where Michael is concerned will she relent. I think she would let me buy him all of Louisiana if I could.”

  “You’re making a hell of a mistake,” Rafe said quietly.

  “Reserve your judgement until you meet both of them. Their clothes are threadbare. And I asked Chantal for one of your shirts. I’ve worn the same three for too long now.”

  “I’ll write Cal. Darcy is here and working for me. He was out of the office on an errand, and I left word for him to come home.”

  “I’d like to see Cal, but I feel an urgency to get Michael back to Atlanta and get settled. He’s had too much upheaval in his life. They’ve been on the run since the first night she took him from the orphanage. Let’s have this wedding tomorrow, and then we’ll leave for Atlanta.”

  “Day after tomorrow. You can’t do Chantal out of the pleasure of a party, and I want to get to know my nephew and see my brother.”

  Fortune smiled. “All right. Day after tomorrow. Then we leave for Atlanta.”

  “You don’t want a wedding night alone with her?”

  “No,” he answered flatly.

  “That’s no way to start a marriage.”

  Fortune shrugged. “It’s a marriage in name only. Maybe with time it will change and we can become friends—”

  “Listen to you! You’re talking about man and wife, not some Sunday picnic with a stranger. Fortune—”

  “Enough said. I’m marrying her.”

  Rafferty studied him. “All right. Want to settle here and go to work with me?”

  “Thanks, but I’m going to Atlanta and open a steel mill. Before I left, I’d already started looking into it. If you have any need of steel, then you can send business my way.”

  “You wrote me of your plans. I’d like to talk you out of returning to Atlanta as well as marrying.”

  “Wenger will come after Michael. I’d just as soon go back and face him now. Now, tell me about your family and your business.

  “Business is booming. And if you need a partner in your venture, I’ll go in.”

  “Good Lord, that’s great! Of course I want you in!”

  “I trust your business judgement.” He grinned. “Besides, I’ll check on you. My business is growing. I’m shipping cotton and other goods, grain, corn, and I’ve bought two more ships. The South is crippled, but I’ve kept my British and European contacts and markets through the war, so I still can have a good trade. And as for my family—the children are growing too fast.”

  Fortune crossed to sit down on a straight-back chair and relaxed as they talked about the city and industry.

  After half an hour, he leaned forward. “Rafe, I have to have a bath and clean clothes before I see anyone else or go to dinner.”

  “All right. Let’s go find my nephew.”

  “And then I bathe. We’ve been sleeping on hard ground most nights.”

  They stepped into the hall, and Fortune admired all the paintings and furnishings. When they got back to Atlanta, he would build a house, and until now he hadn’t given any thought to what he would like. With a deeply carved banister, a curving staircase swept to the second floor. Rafe’s house was large, grand, and comfortable.

  As they climbed the stairs, Fortune glanced back down at a seascape on the wall. Windows along the wide upstairs hall shed a profusion of light, and the oak floor gleamed with polish. From a room down the hall he heard Chantal’s ringing laughter. He had never heard Claire really laugh, but then neither one of them had had anything to laugh about.

  He introduced Rafferty to Michael, who sat on the floor of the children’s nursery, building wooden logs into two cabins with Daniella while Jared sat a few feet away playing with extra logs.

  As soon as Rafe sat on the floor near them, Daniella climbed into her father’s lap, winding her arm around his neck and shaking her blond curls from her face. Rafe talked quietly to Michael, and in minutes he was helping both Daniella and Michael build their log cabins while Jared came to lean against him and then climb onto his shoulders.

  Fortune watched Rafe, knowing he was good with children. Michael was so eager to build that Fortune wondered how much Michael had been able to play with other children. Finally Rafe set Jared on the floor and stood up.

  “I’ll take your Uncle Fortune and show him his room now. I’ll come back later.”

  Daniella nodded, already lost in concentration on her wooden logs.

  “He’s a fine-looking boy,” Rafe said when they were in the hall. “But then I can see a strong O’Brien resemblance.”

  “Yes, there is. He looks more like me than Marilee. We’ve told him about her, so he knows now that Claire isn’t his birth mother.”

  “And how did he take that?”

  “He wants to think of Claire as his mother. That’s understandable, but there will come a time when he’ll want to know more about Marilee.”

  “Take this room,” Rafe said, motioning to an open door, and Rafe entered a spacious bedroom with the south windows raised high.

  “You have a bathroom through that door.”

  “Right next to my room?”

  “Yes. You haven’t been to New Orleans since we moved into this house. I’ll show you through it after you’ve cleaned up.”

  “I’m surprised Chantal would leave the Vieux Carré.”

  “We have that home too,” Rafe said with a smile. “Her cousin lives in it right now. I’ll see you downstairs. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “We’ll leave by boat for Apalachicola, so I’ll need to book passage.”

  “No, you won’t. I have two ships docked now. I’ll send the smaller one and you can go to Apalachicola on it.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be down soon.” When Rafe had left, he looked around at the elegant bedroom with its satin drapery, lace curtains, thick woollen rug, a carved rosewood bed with a high headboard that reached within feet of the ceiling. Pulling off
his shirt, he sat down to remove his boots. As he tugged at them, Rafe’s arguments swirled in his mind.

  “Don’t marry her … hell on earth …”

  All the time he soaked in a bath and smoked a cheroot, he thought about Rafe’s arguments, always coming back to the same thing. There was no other way except to marry her.

  “Suh” came a voice from the bedroom.

  “Come in.”

  “Mistah O’Brien sent some clothes for you. I’ll put them on the bed.”

  “Thank you, Matthew.”

  “Yes, suh.”

  Clamping the cheroot in his teeth, Fortune stood up, water splashing off his body. Drying himself, he went into the bedroom and found a half-dozen shirts and pairs of pants as well as a coat. He grinned, as he fingered a shirt, knowing Rafe’s generosity.

  When he had dressed in a white linen shirt, black trousers, and a black coat, he joined Rafe on the veranda on the east side of the house, overlooking a yard filled with magnolia trees and beds of flowers. For the first time since he had started after Claire, he felt calm and relaxed as he sank into a chair and crossed his legs.

  In minutes a servant held a tray with mint juleps. Fortune accepted the cool drink. “Sitting here, you wouldn’t know there had been a terrible war and that the South is in the throes of Reconstruction. God knows how long Atlanta will be under military jurisdiction.”

  “It was bad here during the war, but not as bad as Atlanta or many other places, and I was out of the country most of the time. New Orleans isn’t the port it was before the war.”

  The sweet scent of honeysuckle wafted from the garden, and Fortune took another sip of his drink. “There’s constant building in Atlanta.”

  “I’ve heard it’s Yankee money. Carpetbaggers abound in the South. I know some northern men who’re investing in business in Atlanta.”

  “Labor is cheap because convict labor is available, it’s a central area, and the railroads are trying to get established again as quickly as they can.”

  “There you are,” Chantal’s lilting voice came. Fortune stood as she stepped outside and Claire followed. Startled, his breath caught as he gazed at his fiancée.