by Lia Davis
“One mystery is solved, another mystery surfaces.” Violet stood and stretched from side to side, lifted up on her toes and back down again, then sat back down next to Noah on the floor. “What remains to be seen, too, is if our ghostly Benjamin will be coming back or if he’s left Savannah for good. I kinda hope he hangs around, actually.”
“Really? After being a nuisance, you now want him around?”
“Well, he’s kinda grown on me, to be honest. Once you saw him, too, and now that we know he’s a relative of yours, I don’t mind. If he doesn’t come back, at least we know his unfinished business was finished here tonight.”
“Thanks to you.”
“Annabelle, Annabelle,” she muttered, leaning her head against Noah’s shoulder. “Who are you, Annabelle? We may never know.” Violet opened her computer and began the search for Benjamin’s sweetheart and mother to his child. The internet proved fruitless. She’d have to go to the public library in town to look through microfiche of newspapers and birth records of Savannah’s families.
“If I stay up any longer, I’m gonna crash right here on this hard, wooden floor.”
“I’d much rather have you crash on top of me in your bed, so let’s call it a night, or should I say early morning.”
“Sounds wonderful.” She smiled and yawned her approval. Hand in hand, they lumbered up the stairs as though scaling a mountain. “It’s times like this when I wish I lived in a ranch house.”
Noah stripped down to his beautiful naked self and climbed into bed. He folded back the covers on her side of the bed and rested his hand on her pillow. “Get naked and join me.”
“Workin’ on it.” She offered a weary smile. As she slid into bed and his arms, she sighed. “Mmm, you feel so good, Noah. So good.” She nestled in, her body touching every inch of his. He nuzzled the top of her head and her eyes closed until later that morning.
Chapter 5
There was nothing better than a lazy Sunday, except a lazy Sunday messing up the sheets with Noah. Bliss would be her word for the day, Violet decided, and she wouldn’t think about tomorrow, when Noah would have to return to New York. Nope, she refused to allow herself to think about going to sleep and waking up without him. Violet was a big, fat liar. Violet was also a strong woman. A woman of fortitude who’d wrestled with a beast of a husband for far too long. She would survive the impending loneliness, too.
They’d been at the library for about an hour, and she hoped the microfiches would be helpful in answering the lingering question of Annabelle’s full identity. Noah had never used the ancient device before, so he was having all sorts of fun distracting himself with old cabinetry journals, but then he buckled down and had the onerous task of searching through birth records in Savannah during the 1800’s. Violet searched through newspapers, hoping to find articles about society parties and gossip about their guests or birth announcements. It was slow going, but Noah recommended a window of years to search rather than focusing in on just one.
“I think I found something,” he said. “Wait, no. Never mind.”
That’s how the afternoon went. He thought he’d found something, then she thought she’d found something, only to have found nothing.
“How about we take a break? There’s a great little ice cream shop we can walk to.”
“Great idea. I could really use to stretch my legs.” He got up out of his seat and groaned as he ambled over to her. Leaning down, he placed his lips right by her ear so only she could hear him. “I think we should buy extra so I can spread it all over you and lick it off.”
A flush crept up her neck and she fanned herself with her notepad. “Mr. Blackman, I do declare you are a randy sort!”
“Proud card-carrying member.” He took her hand and kissed the palm. “Ice cream awaits.”
Before he had his ice cream, Noah feasted on the architecture of various shops in the historic district. It was sensory overload, as he didn’t know where to look first. Each store seemed to have its own unique style, from simple Colonial to Federal to Victorian with its gingerbread accents. His favorite was the synagogue down the street with its Gothic Revival. He’d always been passionate about interiors, but being in Savannah had awakened an interest in architectural design, too. Wheels turned as he contemplated going back to school for an architectural degree. He’d let that idea simmer for a while and see how it felt once back in New York.
New York. It seemed a million miles away, but it was exactly a day from now that he’d be back in that Metropolis. Back to his tiny Greenwich Village apartment. Back to the shop to fulfill money-bloated couples’ wishes for one of a kind pieces meant to sit and gather dust in their penthouses. By now, he should be living in one of those himself, but he always poured the profits back into his business. One day. One day he’d live in a house that wasn’t attached to anyone else. One day, he wouldn’t be awakened by the neighbor’s baby’s colic, or dogs barking to go outside before the sun was even up, or have sucky water pressure to take a shower. And one day, he wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Violet. The closest he’d come to having family in a great long while.
As much fun as he was having, he couldn’t deny how quickly this magical weekend would be over. His family’s ancestry had become so vital to him for one simple reason. His own family was in a shambles. Between poor choices, illnesses, and too many untimely deaths, his once large family had been decimated. He clung to his ancestors for that granule of pride, for a connection that should have been there with his own, but wasn’t. He’d tried to be a good son, a good brother, a positive influence in a rough situation, but he’d learned he couldn’t change people. If they wanted to fuck up their lives, there was nothing he could do about it, other than see to it that his life was filled with purpose and meaning. That he lived above the line and sought to reach his goals. That he never gave up and persevered. He’d had to let go of his family to preserve his own life, and today, he missed what used to be.
“Hey, you okay?” She’d leaned across the cafe table to offer him a napkin.
“Hmm, yeah, why do ask?”
“Because your ice cream is dripping down your arm and you haven’t even noticed.”
“Oh, geez! Ha ha!” He licked the trail of mint chocolate chip drippings that cascaded down his arm and used the napkin to follow up.
“So, what’s going on?”
“Oh, just contemplating, reminiscing. Life. Options. Pathways.”
“That’s deep. What brought this on?”
“I don’t want to say it. If I say it, it becomes real, and I don’t want to deal with reality just yet. So, how’s your ice cream?”
“Delicious, as usual. Listen, Noah. I—”
“Nope, you can’t say anything either. Not today.”
“Why, if it isn’t our runaway boy from the north.” Cassie Windruff sashayed over to their table and stopped right beside Noah, placing a blood-red nail polished claw on his shoulder. Noah stood up and walked behind Violet’s chair, and then placed his hands on her shoulders. A silent nod to his steadfast loyalty. “Violet, I see you’re showin’ our northerly neighbor Savannah’s hot spot in town.”
Violet smirked and leaned back in her seat, as if Cassie wasn’t a prominent figure in the community, which he’d learned she was. “Hello, Cassie. On another shopping trip, I see. What do you buy yourself, the woman who has everything? Monogrammed toothpicks?”
Noah watched and listened, in utter fascination, as the two women dueled with words.
“I hope you enjoyed my party last night. I noticed you left rather early. You missed the best part, my dear.”
“Oh, what was that?”
“A séance, of course. Who knows, we could have brought back your slave ancestor, Noah. And how is your back today? Those scrapes looked mighty angry last night when I got an up close and personal look at them.”
Violet’s body tensed beneath his hands. If he didn’t know better, she seemed ready to pounce.
“They’re fine, Cassie, t
hank you,” he interjected. “Violet fixed them up just right, so they’re healing nicely.”
“I see. So, you two are a thing, are you?” She raised a brow. “How do you think our community would feel about that, Violet?”
“Well, it’s really none of their business, now is it, Cassie? Nor is it any of yours. So, you can stir up the dust on the street with your Jimmy Choos, but don’t even think about stirring up trouble for me and Noah in our town. If you’re that bored with your life that you have to insinuate yourself in other’s, maybe you should try writing. You could whip up many a tale to suit your fancy.”
“Ooh, the delicate rose has hidden thorns, I see. Well, I must be off. Those toothpicks ought to be ready by now.”
Cassie sauntered off down the street, swinging her hips left to right. Noah knew it was for his benefit, and he suddenly wanted to puke. He chose to sit down instead and scoot his chair right next to his woman. “She’s quite the racist bitch, isn’t she? Lonely, desperate, meddlesome. Is she gonna be a problem for you, Violet? Because of me and our relationship? She seems to think your school isn’t going to be happy with you dating a black man.”
“To be honest, I’ve heard she can be ruthless. My friends have told me stories, but she’s never been that way to me. I really don’t know what she can do to affect things around here. The school board and this community can’t dictate the love lives of the people who live here. Besides, I believe we’re perfectly suited for each other. Look. Put your arm on the table.” He did, and she rested hers alongside his. “You see? Our colors are complementary.”
He smirked at the contrasting colors and caressed the crook of her creamy white arm. “They really are.”
“There are interracial couples all over the place, Noah. I never give it a second thought. Do they get harassed? Possibly, I don’t know. But they exist despite any hardship because of their love for each other. I want that kind of love. I think I have it with you.”
“You do, but I don’t want you having problems here. Especially with me not being around to keep you safe. People can be cruel and vicious when it comes to race. I know. I’ve witnessed it plenty of times in my neighborhood and now here.”
“I ran away and married a white man who wound up treating me like a third-class citizen in my own home. He caused more problems for me than the father I ran from, and I’m sure more harm than that sorry-ass woman can ever do. I’m two years free. I can defend myself. I refuse to be bullied or manipulated by the likes of her or anyone who would presume to run my life.”
“Holy shit. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” He prayed his caresses to her cheek soothed those freshly opened wounds. “We talk all the time about our ancestors and the history of our families, but we’ve never really discussed our pasts.”
“You’re right. I guess now might be a good time, hmm? I mean, I have no idea what made you into the man you are today. You have no idea what’s made me the woman I am today. You may want to take the next flight outta here.” She laughed, but it held little joy. “Unlike the scrapes on your back, I imagine the wounds we carry deep inside will be with us forever. I choose to use them, though, as a reminder of my resiliency.”
She pushed aside her cup of melted ice cream and set her hands in her lap.
“We don’t have to dredge up our past horrors and successes right now. I don’t need to know the ‘you’ of yesterday to love the ‘you’ you are today.”
Her nose reddened and she sniffled as she swiped at her eyes. “Oh, Noah. I love you so much, I can’t even begin to explain.” She sniffed again and perched atop his lap. He reveled in his woman finding comfort in his arms.
“Fuck Cassie and the horse she rode in on. Fuck your asshole ex-husband and father. And fuck my family that drove me away. Fuck ‘em all.”
She hadn’t expected to melt down in front of Noah. She hadn’t expected to fall apart at all. But she had, and he’d been right there to pick up her pieces. He loved her. Nothing else mattered. Except he was leaving tomorrow evening.
Back in the library, they tabled any more deep discussion in favor of solving the Annabelle mystery. He returned to the birth records, she to the newspapers. The answer had to be there somewhere. She was up to newspapers from the 1850’s. Bingo.
“I found her! Noah, I found her.” Violet waved her hand frantically. “Get over here.”
“Are you kidding me?” Noah rolled his chair over to her station. “You better not be kidding me.”
“Look at this article.” Her hands trembled as she moved the microfiche around. “Blah blah blah Christmas Cotillion. Blah blah blah. Okay. This year’s debutantes are the toast of Savannah. Scoot down to the list and…Annabelle Hawkins! Miss Annabelle Hawkins, daughter of prominent plantation owner Samuel Hawkins! Noah, we found her!”
“Woohoo!” He raised his arms in victory. “I’ll be damned. You did it!”
“Shhh!” A stodgy, old woman sitting at the next table admonished them with a frown and a shake of her head.
“We’re so sorry, ma’am. We just solved a mystery. We’ll keep it down.” Violet turned to Noah. “Let’s find her birth records now that we have a full name.”
They wheeled over to his area, and he got down to work. “Wow, it’s so much easier when you have a first and last name. Here she is. One, Annabelle Hawkins. Born April 5, 1837. That makes her eighteen at the Debutante ball in 1855. Documents show Benjamin would have escaped around that time. So, she and Benjamin must’ve gotten together sometime before or after that appearance.”
“Let’s go back to the newspapers. They had articles about runaway slaves and bounties for their return. There should be some mention of Benjamin.”
“Yes!”
Back over to her station, they scoured every article of every newspaper available from after the Debutante Ball of 1855. It didn’t take long to find runaway slave articles. It took a bit longer to find Benjamin, but he was found in a newspaper dated October 10th, 1856. Violet, in her dogged determination, found an ad which listed Benjamin as a runaway slave, owned by Master Hawkins. The wealthy plantation and slave owner had placed a large bounty on his slave’s return.
“He must’ve been quite valuable to the man to have that kind of bounty on him. No wonder Florida wouldn’t have been much safer for him. It’s a miracle he made it even that far. Even more so then, all the way to New York.”
“It’s extraordinary.” Noah scrubbed his stubbly cheeks while scrutinizing the article. “I bet the large bounty was due in part to Hawkins finding out about Annabelle’s relationship with Benjamin and her subsequent pregnancy. I would imagine he wanted him back so he could kill him.”
“Probably. Wow.” Violet shook her head and leaned back in her seat. “I’m blown away right now.”
“Me, too.” He rested against the back of his seat, as well. “I think it’s time to find out the baby’s name and where its path leads.”
“Well, if we can assume she was pregnant around October of 1856, then we’re looking at birth records and wedding announcements in 1857. Her parents could have married her off as quickly as possible to anyone who would agree to take the child on as his own.”
“But if the baby came out dark-skinned? No, that’s too much of a gamble, Violet.”
“True. Okay, then let’s try thinking like Samuel Hawkins and his wife here. Our daughter’s had relations with one of our finest slaves. Besides killing the man, we’ve gotta do something about the baby. Records show that some families sent the girl away to have the baby and come back without it, as though nothing unusual had occurred. We could do that.”
“If so, you and I have reached the end of our investigations.”
“Right. But we could also keep her sequestered in her room for the duration of the pregnancy, see what color the baby is, and if it’s dark—”
He scooted to the edge of his seat and his knee bobbed furiously up and down. “Give it to one of the slave women to raise as her own.”
“Right! And we just
gained ourselves a new slave once the child is old enough. If it’s light-skinned?”
He slapped his leg and pointed at her, looking victorious. “Pass it off as white and come up with a viable story for its presence. Something like the mother, a distant cousin, three times removed, dies in childbirth and they agree to take it in. No mention of Annabelle’s forbidden union with Benjamin need ever be acknowledged.”
“Exactly!”
“Let’s find this baby, Violet.”
They ate a quick dinner at her favorite sandwich shop, then returned to the library. They’d close the place down if they had to, determined to solve this mystery before day’s end. Violet searched through historic photos on various sites, looking specifically for the Cotillion of 1855. If she could find a photograph of Annabelle during that time, maybe she could find other pictures of her and her family. Being a wealthy plantation owner, Samuel Hawkins surely had his family’s picture taken at some point. Noah went on ancestry sites and used the Hawkins surname to see what he could find.
No success on the baby hunt, but Noah found pictures of Annabelle and her family on Branches, an ancestry site. Someone had uploaded a scanned picture to the file for the Hawkins family tree. He’d also found a solo portrait of her dating back to the 1855 Cotillion.
“I can’t believe we’re looking at Annabelle on her big day. She’s beautiful, Noah. Isn’t she?”
“She is. I can see why Benjamin would fall for her.”
She rubbed his arm. Any chance to touch him, she took. “We’re so close to wrapping this up. I feel it in my bones.”
“You know something? The longer I look at her, the more I think I’ve seen her somewhere before. Her picture I mean.”
“Really? Where would you have seen her?”
“It would have to have been at some point down here. Your home. Windruff’s home.”
“Let’s go back to the house, then. Maybe she’s been hanging on my wall all this time and we had no idea.”
