Atlanta

by Sara Orwig

  Chapter 16

  Fortune strode from the hotel and mounted his horse. “Thanks, Badru,” he said as the man stepped away from holding the animal. He watched Badru stride back into the hotel and glanced upstairs at their windows. He didn’t worry about Michael when he knew Badru was with him. Fortune turned the horse, riding through the sleeping city that hadn’t started the day.

  He passed new houses and more homes under construction at the edge of town and headed into the rolling countryside. He rode along the isolated road conscious of his revolver on his hip, remembering how easily Wenger had taken him before. His gaze swept back and forth over the peaceful scenery, and he listened carefully for strange noises.

  He was aware as well that if something happened to him, Wenger would take Michael from Claire within twenty-four hours. More than likely she wouldn’t know he was coming after her.

  Something shifted in the trees ahead, and a rider emerged. Fortune yanked out his revolver, and Trevor Wenger raised his hands, his brown coat falling open.

  Fortune glanced around, but didn’t see a sign of anyone else. Hairs on his neck prickled and he tried to listen for any sound. “Stay where you are.”

  “I’m not armed and I’m alone,” Trevor Wenger said.

  “That tempts me,” Fortune snapped.

  “I don’t think you’d shoot me down when I’m unarmed.” There was a moment of silence. “You managed to outwit Harwood and get my grandson. I’ll give you one million dollars for him.”

  Fortune shook his head. “Ten million wouldn’t be enough.”

  “One million for a little boy you barely know. You’re young. You can have a dozen boys.”

  “Get out of my way, Wenger,” Fortune said, his anger rising.

  “When can I meet him?”

  Fortune gazed into Trevor Wenger’s dark eyes. “Never. You will never meet him or talk to him or get near him. Not until he’s older and I can’t supervise where he is and what he’s doing.”

  “You bastard!” Wenger snapped, his face flushing and his mouth setting in a grim line.

  “Get out of the road.”

  “You can’t keep him from me. And the next time I won’t stop with a beating. I’ll finish the job, and then it will be easy to take him from the woman. I’ll get my grandson, O’Brien, and you’ll never live to know it.”

  Fortune pulled back the hammer of the pistol. “Everyone who knows me knows of the hatred between us. And quite a few men know the beating I received from you. I think I can convince them I pulled the trigger in self-defense. Now get out of my way.”

  Trevor Wenger turned his horse and rode into the trees. Fortune reined around, riding into the opposite woods and backtracking to warn Badru to keep Michael in sight when he wasn’t with Claire or Penthea.

  After talking to Badru, Fortune took a different route to his mill, deciding he would vary his route every day.

  One Sunday evening Fortune was at the hotel by eight to eat dinner with them. As they left the hotel coffee shop, he linked her arm in his. “Michael, this way,” he said, motioning toward the door with a shake of his head. He looked down at Claire. “Let’s go look at our new house.”

  The boy ran outside ahead of them, and she watched him jump in the air. “Michael’s changing. He’s more lively, not so cautious.”

  “He’s just growing. I stopped by the house today. They’re making progress. I want you to tell me what kind of furniture you want in the back parlor and some of the bedrooms, Claire. I’ve already ordered some furniture.”

  He helped her into the buggy. As she straightened her blue muslin skirt, Michael scrambled into the backseat and Fortune climbed up beside her. He placed his coat in back and rolled back his sleeves. They rode away from the hotel, and the breeze created by moving down the street was welcome. They reached Five Points and turned north on Peachtree. As they passed elegant mansions, she wondered if she would ever become accustomed to living in such an area or be able to view her neighbors without awe. And she couldn’t imagine their own house.

  “Our house is going to be big, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Michael,” Fortune answered. “Very big.”

  “Will I have my own room?”

  “Yes, you will, and you can have bookshelves so you’ll have a place for your books.”

  “I don’t have very many books.”

  “You will as you get older.” Fortune glanced at her. “You did a good job of teaching him to read.”

  “He was interested from an early age. Plus, sometimes we had to stay in our room for long hours at a time.”

  They stopped in front of a lot that still had three tall live oaks with spreading branches casting cool shade. The framework was up for the house, and Claire stared at all the boards, unable to imagine living in such a palace. “Let’s look at it,” Fortune said eagerly, jumping down and coming around to lift her to the ground.

  Michael climbed down from the buggy. “Soon they’ll have the walls up. Papa, you said I could have a big bedroom.”

  “That you can. And we’ll have water piped into the house like your Uncle Rafferty’s house.”

  “Criminy!” Michael scampered up the slight incline and ran through the structure. Grass grew high and lumber was stacked beside a barrel of water. Fortune draped his arm across her shoulders, and a tingle ran through her as she walked close beside him. He touched her lightly and casually, but it had been weeks now since the night he had stormed in and kissed her passionately.

  “Fortune, I had a letter from my father. He said he’s better, and in the fall when we’re in our house, if he feels well enough, he would like to come visit us.”

  “That’s fine, Claire.” Fortune glanced at her. “I’d rather you didn’t go to Charlotte and take Michael now.”

  “You worry about Trevor Wenger. Has he tried to see Michael?”

  She saw the grim set to Fortune’s jaw and realized the two men must have already clashed.

  “He knows Michael is here. He stopped me on the street and said he wanted to see Michael. I told him he never would.”

  “Fortune, he’s bound to see Michael when you’re in the same town. And it just doesn’t seem right never to let him talk to Michael.”

  “We’ve discussed all that. Wenger isn’t going to get near my son,” Fortune said, a muscle working in his jaw.

  She bit her lip, thinking he never said our son, yet that was the way she thought of Michael. She had thought of him as her own for too long now to stop.

  “Try to reconsider. Trevor Wenger is Michael’s blood kin. And I know there has to be some good in him somewhere.”

  “No.” Fortune separated from her, running his hand idly along the brick fireplace in the area that someday would be the front parlor. “If you think of any other furniture you want made for the house, just tell me. Don’t worry about the cost. If we can’t afford it, I’ll tell you. Sometime after my steelworks is running smoothly, I’ll take you and Michael to Europe, and we can get more furniture and have it sent over.”

  Fortune examined the carpentry in one corner before he added, “I’ve ordered some furniture for this room. I didn’t consult you on it because I thought the price would worry you.”

  “That’s fine,” she said. “I’m sure I shall think every inch of it is the most beautiful house in the entire world with the most beautiful furniture.”

  Fortune smiled at her, crossing to her to place his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t have to worry about you foolishly spending my money. It’s going to be a beautiful house and a happy home. I think we can give Michael a good life.”

  “That takes more than beautiful things.”

  “I know that. You’ve seen my family. The love they have is what’s important, but if we can have these trappings, then we will.”

  He stood close to her, gazing down at her, and she thought how long it had been since he’d kissed her. Her gaze lowered to his mouth, and she seemed to feel a clutch in her middle. “Ready to go, Claire?”r />
  “Yes. Whenever both of you are,” she answered breathlessly.

  “I’ll find Michael.”

  They rode back to the hotel and soon settled in the parlor. She had her sewing, working on dainty lace and batiste to make a chemise, while Fortune sprawled on the floor with Michael, reading to him. She eyed father and son, both dark heads bent over a book.

  And as she stared at him, she wished more than ever that they would have a baby. She thought about it every day now. If they did, it might bring them closer together, and it would give her another precious child to love. She stared at Fortune, remembering his promise to oblige her if she wanted a physical relationship.

  And she was already lost in love with him. She knew that as surely as she needed air to breathe. If they had a child, she not only would have another part of him, but she would also have his arms around her, have his kisses. Even without his love, his caresses and kisses were better than this isolation and only casual touches. She didn’t know whether he had a mistress or not; he was gone such long hours, he could be seeing a woman easily.

  Claire stared at him, feeling another rush of shyness, wondering what he would say if she asked him to father a child. She knew he would willingly do so. It was blatantly obvious to her that he had fought for control the times they kissed, and she had seen desire in his eyes often. Should she wait until they had their own house? Or by waiting, would she lose him to a mistress?

  She decided to wait, to give it thought, because once she made the commitment, there would be no turning back. Yet the thought of another baby was wonderful. And the thought of Fortune making love to her sent a thrill surging through her.

  Her gaze ran down the long length of him. His boots were dusty, his tight-fitting pants hugged his long legs and slim hips. He had his sleeves rolled back, revealing his muscular forearms covered in dark hair. Her gaze shifted to his hands, looking at the blue veins, the blunt, strong fingers. She looked at the golden links around his wrist that always reminded her that she didn’t have his love.

  When they moved into their new house, she would ask him about a baby. The thought of asking Fortune to father a child sent her pulse pounding, and her gaze ran over him again while she felt longing, wishing that he might someday learn to love her.

  Two months later, on a warm, sunny Saturday in August, they moved into the house. Michael danced around the hotel room with excitement as the last things were packed and carried out.

  She put her blue silk bonnet on her head and studied her reflection, her pulse beating with eagerness. She wore a blue silk morning dress with ebony trim and onyx earbobs.

  “Ready?”

  She turned to see Fortune watching her from the doorway. Her breath caught at the sight of him, wearing his black coat and trousers and one of his fancy white linen shirts. “Yes, I’m ready,” she replied.

  “Michael is jumping around like a toad in a rainstorm. We need to get him out of the hotel.”

  She smiled at Fortune as he linked her arm in his, and they left, climbing into the buggy.

  “Mama, will I have my new bed?”

  “Everything is there, Michael, just waiting for us.”

  “William lives behind our house, and he told me to come see him when we move in. And Edwin’s grandfather lives only three blocks away, so I can see Edwin a lot.”

  “You unpack your things first,” she said, looking at the wide street, the newly planted trees, the elegant, recently built new mansions that looked as if the town had never seen a war.

  “Claire, we’ve been invited to a ball Friday night.”

  She turned to look at him. “Good heavens, Fortune, I don’t know how to dance!”

  He glanced at her and smiled. “Then I’ll teach you how before Friday night.”

  She nodded uncertainly. “Fortune, there’s so much about society I don’t know. I was a schoolgirl and hadn’t had a coming-out party when I left home.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  She forgot about the party as he turned the buggy up the drive. She gazed at the sprawling three-story Victorian with fish-scale detailing on the upper dormers and turret, fancy corbels and fretwork along the wraparound veranda. Fortune pulled beneath the porte cochere, and beyond it she glimpsed the carriage house. She knew there was a servants’ quarters for Badru, a greenhouse and springhouse on the grounds. The yard was rutted and barren from workmen tracking over it, but she could imagine that it would look as fine as the places around it before long because flowers seemed to thrive in Atlanta’s weather. Fortune halted the buggy as four men unloaded their belongings and carried them inside.

  “Can I go in?” Michael asked and Fortune laughed.

  “Go!”

  Michael jumped out of the buggy, landing on both feet and running for the house. Fortune came around as Claire started to climb out of the buggy. He caught her in his arms, scooping her up to carry her.

  “Fortune! Great heavens, what will the neighbor’s say!”

  “They’ll say the newlyweds are moving in.”

  “We have a seven-year-old son!”

  Fortune grinned, an infectious smile with a flash of white teeth, and she realized he was as excited as Michael. She wound her arm around his neck as he strode up the front steps and yanked open the front door to carry her inside. Men moved around them, setting down boxes of their belongings. She gazed at the hallways, glimpsing off to her left the small receiving room where callers could leave their cards. To her right was the elegant front parlor with new furniture and rugs already in place.

  Fortune set her on her feet and took her hand to lead her into the front parlor, its entryway framed by fretwork. For the past two weeks, while the furniture was being delivered, he had stopped taking her to see the house because he said he wanted to surprise her. She stood in the doorway, stunned by the blue satin drapes, blue damask-upholstered chairs, marble-topped tables, and rosewood furniture, a rosewood piano. The bay in the living room had two sets of French doors opening onto the veranda. The house was as elegant as a palace, and she couldn’t believe it was her home. Hers and Michael’s and Fortune’s. She thought of the tiny, threadbare rooms she had shared with Michael. Suddenly her eyes filled with tears, and she wiped them quickly.

  Fortune’s hand closed on her arm, and he turned her to face him, his brows coming together. “Claire?”

  “It’s so beautiful! Oh, Fortune, thank you. I shouldn’t have kept him from you all those years—”

  “Shh, Claire,” he said quietly, pulling her to him. He held her close, stroking her head. “You did the best you could, and Michael is a wonderful child.”

  “This is just so grand.” Feeling foolish, she wiped her eyes and moved away from him. “Fortune, it’s magnificent.”

  He smiled and held out his hand. “Come here, Claire.” He crossed the parlor and opened the double doors, and she drew in her breath as she looked at a ballroom that ran the length of the house. Sunlight poured through long windows, and French doors could be opened to the outside. Mirrors lined the walls between the windows, and at one end of the room was a small dais.

  “Fortune, this is magnificent!”

  Fortune turned to face her and held out his arms. “Come here, Claire. We’ll dance our first dance in our new home.”

  Shyly she moved forward to place her hand in his. He put his hand on her waist, and she reciprocated. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Watch my feet. Just go in a square. One, two, three …” He began to hum a waltz, and she followed his lead, watching his feet and then looking up at him. He was watching her, his blue eyes sparkling with happiness. She followed him as he hummed and she hummed with him, their voices mingling as he spun her around the room.

  She felt dizzy, happy, amazed at her life with him. And she wanted to ask him now for a baby. Tonight would be the time.

  Finally he stopped, looking down at her. “You know how to dance now as well as anyone. We’ll practice again before the ball.”

  He
took her hand and closed the tall double doors. “I’ve already told Michael he’s not to play in the ballroom.”

  As they moved into the hall, she heard running feet overhead. “Fortune, Michael’s running—”

  “Let him run. He’ll calm down. For all the elegance, this house still is a comfortable home and it’s his.”

  “Papa! Mama!” Michael cried. She looked up at the wide, curving staircase with rosettes in the newel post. At the top of the stairs he swung his leg over the banister and slid down. “Yeeee—”

  “Michael—”

  Laughing, Fortune moved to the foot of the staircase and caught Michael. “Do you like your house?”

  “It’s grand, Papa! I want to tell William I’m here,” he said, wiggling, and Fortune set him down.

  “Michael,” she called to him, and he turned to look at her. “Stay in our yard. Ask William over here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Badru is trailing after him. He’ll keep him in sight.” Fortune took her hand to lead her down the hall.

  “Fortune, I can’t believe I’m part of this.”

  “It’s your’s Claire, just as much as it’s mine,” he said. His blue eyes were dancing with eagerness, and she wondered if she could ever stir such excitement in him. “Let’s look at the rest of it.” In the hall, a small woman was picking up boxes to put them away.

  “Afternoon, Mrs. O’Brien, Mr. O’Brien,” she said, smiling.

  “Afternoon, Robena,” Fortune said easily. “That box goes into Michael’s bedroom.”