Three Sides of a Heart

by Natalie C. Parker

  Mrs. Aiken smiled and clapped her hands together. “Well, isn’t this a happy coincidence. Louisa and I were headed there as well. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to accompany us?” A calculating look gleamed in her mother’s eye.

  Louisa’s mother was scheming.

  Mr. Hayes gave them a smooth bow. “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Aiken.”

  Everett held out an arm to each of the ladies and they took them, the trio gliding across the square to a low-slung building with a fresh coat of paint. Mrs. Aiken kept up a lively chatter about the weather while Louisa fumed. She’d been ensnared in one of her mother’s plots.

  It was a short stroll to the market. Employment agents called out to passersby looking to hire help, creating a cacophony of sound.

  “You need a cook? Then you must taste the preparations of Miss Jessie, best cook in the city!”

  “Strong men! You need them, and aye! I’ve got them.”

  “Don’t go anywhere, fine ladies, without an Attendant to see to your safety! Gentlemen, don’t you want your womenfolk protected? A faithful Attendant is the thing for you! And here they are, from the finest school in all the states, Miss Preston’s School of Combat for Negro Girls, in Baltimore, Maryland!”

  Mrs. Aiken stopped suddenly in front of a platform, bringing Everett and Louisa to a halt as well. A short man with a florid face and a frayed stovepipe hat stood in the street, imploring passersby to look at the girls on the platform, to see their prowess and loyalty. The girls didn’t look any different than the other Negro girls Louisa had seen, except for the fact that they wore incredibly sharp-looking knives and swords strapped to their bodies. Their eyes were hooded, their hair braided tight to their scalp, and they radiated an air of supreme disinterest in the whole of the goings-on in the square.

  “Good sir,” Mrs. Aiken called to the small man. “Your girls, they are Attendants?”

  The man scuttled over, a wide smile on his face. “Oh, yes’m. Best in all of Georgia, my girls are. More dead have been harvested by these girls than all of the Federal patrols combined! And a fair price too. For one hundred dollars, you can employ one of my girls for a six-month contract.”

  “A hundred dollars!” Mrs. Aiken exclaimed, her gloved hands fluttering to her face like startled doves. “What exactly does one get for a hundred dollars?” she asked, trying to cover her shock.

  “Why, protection, ma’am. What is that worth in these dark times?”

  Mrs. Aiken and the small man went back and forth for a moment, but Louisa tuned them out. She was studying the girls, and her gaze was drawn toward one in the back. She didn’t wear a dress over pantalets like most of the other Attendants on the platform. Instead, she was dressed like a man: trousers, shirt, waistcoat in a jaunty blue paisley pattern. She wore a belt, low slung on her hips, that looked as though it should carry revolvers but instead carried a pair of short swords, their edges glinting wickedly sharp in the sunlight. The girl’s hair was braided in even rows, the braids ending at her shoulder blades.

  Louisa’s eyes met those of the girl. She tilted her head to the side, openly appraising Louisa. Louisa blinked, taken aback slightly at the colored girl’s naked assessment, and when the dark-skinned girl grinned and winked, Louisa gasped audibly, loud enough to distract her mother from her conversation.

  “Louisa, what is it, dear?”

  “Nothing, Mother.”

  Louisa busied herself adjusting the ties on her coat to cover the heat rushing to her cheeks. What an impudent Negro! No wonder they were hard-pressed to secure employment.

  “Personally, I think the idea of Attendants is a good one,” Everett interjected, interrupting whatever Louisa’s mother had been saying to the barker. “There is nothing quite so important as the safety and security of our womenfolk. Especially our most precious blossoms.” He looked straight at Louisa as he said this, and she felt herself flush again.

  Everett cleared his throat and turned back to the small man. “Which is why I’m going to give Miss Aiken the gift of an Attendant.”

  Shock radiated through Louisa’s body. “Mr. Hayes . . . ,” she said, trailing off. Words failed her. The gift of an Attendant? It was much too generous.

  Everett took Louisa’s hands and smiled down at her. “It isn’t jewels or dresses, but your safety is the most precious gift I can give you. If I’m going to court you, the world needs to know that I am going to cherish and protect you.”

  Something in Louisa’s chest shifted, and she felt faint. It was happening so fast, and Mr. Hayes! She’d lain in bed at night and imagined what it would be like to be courted by him, but none of her imaginings had included an Attendant. It was strange . . . and yet perfectly right.

  “Mr. Hayes, this is the most generous gift I have ever received.”

  Everett smiled wide. “Excellent.” He moved off with the small man to finalize the paperwork.

  “Well, that was fortuitous,” Mrs. Aiken said, her finger tapping her chin as she stared off, deep in thought. Louisa glanced over at her mother.

  “Why do I suspect that you had something to do with this, Mother?”

  “Well, I may have mentioned to Mr. Hayes, when he came to visit your father, how you were in need of an Attendant. Louisa! You realize you’re the first woman in Savannah to have one? Hildy Brenner is going to be absolutely flush with jealousy.”

  Uncertainty settled heavily into Louisa’s middle, and suddenly her gift seemed less generous. “You talked Everett into getting me an Attendant?”

  “Nonsense, darling! I did no such thing. I made a suggestion, and the boy was bright enough to pick up on it. Trust me, the ability to take a hint is a fine trait in a husband.”

  The men were returning, a signed document in Everett’s hand and a wide smile on the face of the barker. Everett handed the paper to Louisa, while the small man whistled up to the dais. Louisa clutched the paper to her chest. “Mr. Hayes, I’m still not sure how to express my thanks.”

  “How about by calling me Everett?”

  “Of course, and you must call me Louisa.”

  “Here she is,” the small man said, interrupting the moment between Louisa and Everett. Louisa turned. The girl in the trousers was only a few feet away.

  “Her?” Louisa said, all of the warmth and happiness from Everett’s generosity melting away into irritation. “No, I don’t want her. She’s highly inappropriate.”

  The small man laughed nervously. “Oh, you can’t judge a package by its wrapper, miss. Juliet’s my best girl and well-mannered despite her odd attire. Your beau there said he wanted my best, and here she is.”

  Juliet hadn’t said a word, but there was an expression on her face like she found this all to be incredibly amusing. She swept into a deep curtsy, her movements fluid like a dancer’s. It would’ve been impressive in a dress but looked strange in trousers. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, miss.”

  Louisa’s mother clapped her hands and laughed. “Well, isn’t she just a hoot? Louisa darling, you are going to be the talk of the town.”

  The barker grinned a gap-toothed smile and rubbed his hands together. “Looks like we’re all settled.”

  Louisa looked from Everett’s apologetic smile to her mother’s satisfied expression to Juliet’s smirk and realized with a sinking heart that things were, in fact, quite settled.

  It wasn’t until they were heading back to the pony, Juliet and Mrs. Aiken’s parcels in tow, that Louisa realized that she’d never even mailed her letter.

  The girl was completely incorrigible.

  It wasn’t that she was loud or headstrong or sullen, issues Louisa knew how to handle in Negroes. It was that Juliet was perfectly well-behaved, quick to follow a request or to anticipate a need, so that Louisa could find no fault with the girl. But Louisa got the sense Juliet was playing at being the loyal servant, rather than serving loyally. It made Louisa nervous, so much that she tried to avoid the girl.

  And the girl was everywhere.

  No
matter what Louisa was about, there was Juliet, a silent shadow, dogging her steps and watching with that half-lidded, slightly bemused expression.

  The only upside to Juliet’s constant presence was Everett. He stopped by once a week, sometimes twice if the roads were passable. The undead were always out and about, but as the weather warmed to spring, the creatures became even more prevalent, cluttering roads and making travel nigh on impossible. Everett’s visits were chaperoned by Mrs. Aiken and Juliet, although Louisa wanted nothing more than to be alone with Everett—a completely scandalous thought, and one she did not share with anyone.

  The first week in April, Everett came to call upon Louisa while Mrs. Aiken was away visiting friends. He walked in carrying a large wicker basket and wearing a smile that had Louisa setting aside her needlepoint and climbing to her feet.

  “Louisa! Your father said I could find you in here. I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of accompanying me on a picnic?”

  “Of course! It would be a pleasure,” Louisa said, smiling up at him. Thanks to his frequent visits, Everett looked completely at ease in the Aiken family drawing room, and Louisa realized that their courtship was going quite well. At this rate, she would be married by fall. The thought brought a strange combination of joy and terror. Louisa pushed it down so that she didn’t have to examine the emotion too closely.

  “You look beautiful,” Everett said, offering his free arm to Louisa. She was wearing a pale green silk that she’d felt undecided about, and Everett’s compliment settled her mind that it was a good dress.

  Louisa took Everett’s arm, and the two of them went out to the Aikens’ picnic pavilion, located a short distance from the house. Juliet followed along closely behind, saying nothing, and Louisa found herself irritated at the extra company. She’d thought through a hundred different ways to politely tell Everett that after nearly three months of an Attendant, she didn’t wish to have the girl around any longer. But no matter how she tried to parse it out, it just sounded ungrateful, and the last thing Louisa wanted was to have her future husband think her petty.

  They were nearly to the picnic pavilion, a short walk across the grounds of Landsfall, when a bloodcurdling scream came from the fields. Louisa turned to see Negroes running from the tobacco fields back to the shotgun houses in the rear of the property. She stared openmouthed as Everett grabbed the arm of a colored woman fleeing past them.

  “What is going on?” he demanded, and the woman flinched as though he’d hit her.

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but there’s shamblers in the fields. The back fence has gone down, and shamblers are all over the place.”

  Juliet stepped up, her half smile replaced by a steely expression. “Where?”

  The woman pointed back behind her before hurrying off. Sure enough, undead were lumbering through the fields, their swaying walk distinctive.

  Juliet turned to Everett. “Please escort Miss Louisa to the pavilion, Mr. Everett.”

  Everett nodded. He was whiter than a christening gown, and when he laid a hand on Louisa’s arm to guide her to the nearby pavilion, she detected a tremble. Louisa wasn’t quite as scared, but most of her experience with the undead was from a safe distance. God only knew what Everett had been through.

  Juliet took long strides toward the tobacco fields. The plants were still small, little more than seedlings, really, and Juliet was careful to step between the rows as she moved toward the undead. From her perch in the pavilion Louisa counted ten shamblers, and for a moment she felt a pang of fear for Juliet. How could she possibly take down so many of them? Walter Mattias, an old man who’d fought in the war, often told the story of the day his unit was overwhelmed by the undead. “If your odds are more than five to one, I guarantee those shamblers will be dining on your flesh. Trust me, boys, you see more than three and you’re by your lonesome, you’d best turn tail. No shame in knowing when you’re outmatched.”

  But now, here was that fool girl Juliet walking out into a field with ten—no! Eleven, twelve shamblers, all focused on devouring her.

  Louisa sighed. Well, at least she would be finally rid of the girl.

  Juliet drew the gleaming swords from their holsters. There was a moment of hesitation, and then she sprang into action.

  The short sword whistled through the air in an arc, catching sunlight for a moment before it detached the head of the first undead. Louisa gasped. She’d seen shamblers put down, but she’d never seen it happen so quickly, so effectively. She didn’t have time to even consider the creature’s end before Juliet was on to the next one, those shining swords detaching another head, silencing the moans and groans of another undead. Juliet moved through the pack with deadly efficiency, her movements fluid, the entire act a rapid dance that left Juliet grinning wide and smeared with the black blood of the undead.

  Walter Mattias was wrong. Juliet had just put down twelve shamblers in the space of a few heartbeats, and she barely looked fatigued. The girl was more than competent. She was a master.

  Next to her, Everett was saying something inane about Juliet being worth her mettle. From the direction of the house came the Aiken family patrol, led by their overseer, Gregory, a blustering white man with a florid complexion and a limp from the war. All of it was secondary to Juliet standing in the tobacco field, a wide grin on her face, an angel of true death with two gleaming swords.

  Something fundamental tilted in Louisa, as though she was seeing reality for the first time. This was what it meant to be a woman of the world. To know how to handle oneself and be endlessly prepared. It wasn’t a husband Louisa needed; her mother was wrong as usual. It was this, the ability to defend herself against the undead. A skill she’d been denied in her endless trainings to be a good wife. Now she understood. The defense arts were everything she’d wanted.

  And the girl Juliet was going to be the one to give them to her.

  Once Everett had been sent on his way, a handful of houseboys accompanying him to ensure he got home safely, Louisa found Juliet outside near the well, hauling up buckets of water and dumping them over her head. For a moment Louisa paused, a curious warmth shifting low in her middle. There was something . . . appealing . . . about the way Juliet looked soaking wet, water running over her dark skin, the black blood of the undead rinsing away.

  Louisa grabbed the feeling and shoved it down violently. She’d heard stories of men, and women, who developed affections for Negroes, and she had no desire to do the same. Down that path lay ruin, and that was not for Louisa. She was respectable.

  Mostly.

  “I want you to teach me how to do that.”

  Juliet paused, the bucket waist-high. “Dumping water over your head? I reckon you just pick up the bucket and dump it, miss.”

  “No, fighting the undead. Killing them.”

  Juliet laughed, a surprised bark of sound. “You don’t want that, miss. Isn’t proper.”

  “I do want that,” Louisa said, and something in her voice caused Juliet to pause, to stare at her intently.

  “Teaching you how to kill the dead isn’t in the contract.”

  Louisa took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That wasn’t a no. “How about I double your contract fee, give you another hundred dollars if you teach me the self-defense arts between now and when your duties are complete.”

  “Six months isn’t enough time. I went to combat school for three years.”

  Louisa felt that thing, that nameless desire, begin to slip away from her grasp. “But you can teach me something in that time, right?”

  Juliet stood, considering. “Yep, surely something. But a hundred dollars’ worth of something? The last thing I need is some agent of the court chasing me down because I stole from some white woman. No, miss, I don’t need that at all.”

  “I promise that won’t happen.”

  Juliet’s mouth twisted into an ugly smile. Louisa realized Juliet was talking from experience, not a hypothetical. Louisa felt trapped, and she threw up her hands in ex
asperation. “I’ll have my father negotiate a new contract with your agent.”

  “That man charges me thirty percent of each contract, so make it a hundred thirty dollars, and you got a deal. Now, if you don’t mind, miss, I need to finish getting tidied up. And you need to get inside where it’s safe.”

  Louisa nodded and moved away, toward the house. From the nearby fields came the shouts and calls of the Landsfall patrol clearing out the undead Juliet hadn’t put down.

  Louisa had convinced Juliet to teach her the self-defense arts. Now she just had to convince her father it was a good idea.

  Two weeks later, after much cajoling and begging and even the threat of tears, Louisa’s father relented and agreed to pay Juliet to train Louisa in defense.

  Mrs. Aiken was quite against the idea, but the thought of undead walking Landsfall sent her to bed with a bad case of the vapors every time it was mentioned, so her objections were easily overlooked.

  Louisa had not thought much on self-defense arts beyond knowing it was something she didn’t have and therefore wanted. The hunger burned deep inside of her, and if it had not been for Juliet’s actions the day of the picnic, that need might have gone on slumbering. But watching Juliet move, seeing her confidence, made Louisa acutely aware of her shortcomings.

  Deficiencies she was determined to correct.

  They worked from sunup until it was time for dinner. Juliet explained how to hold the short swords, and then watched as Louisa swung one sword to and fro. For her part, Louisa didn’t complain. She’d fought hard to be allowed to train with Juliet, and she was afraid that if she said anything about her tired arms or the perspiration pooling under her corset, Juliet would stop showing her the finer points of self-defense.