by Lia Davis
Violet dressed and picked up where Noah left off at the computer. By looking at wedding announcements, she found that Cassie’s maiden name was Webster. She dug deeper, though. Her mother’s maiden name? Hawkins.
Her ancestors apparently lost the plantation house through some misfortune, then Cassie’s husband must’ve bought it back for her. Through her mother, and working backward in time, Cassie’s lineage could be traced back to Annabelle Hawkins and her son, presumably Benjamin’s, named Henry, though Benjamin was not named. Annabelle never married, and she’d given Henry her maiden name as his surname.
Noah was going to be so…so…how would Noah react now that the proof was irrefutable? There was only one way to find out. “Noah, hurry up in there. You’re gonna wanna hear this!”
“Hurry up and come out naked, or take an extra couple of minutes and come out dressed?”
“All right, all right. Come out when you’re dressed, but hurry!”
It took all of three minutes and he was by her side, like a puppy waiting for its treat. “What do you have for me?”
“Say hello to your long, lost relative. Cassie Hawkins Windruff.”
“Shit.” He ran his hands across his damp hair and hung his head. “That makes Halloween even more gross.”
“Yup. Mystery solved. Your family tree can be completed now. We don’t even have to go looking for that portrait of Annabelle.”
“No, we don’t. Given it’s Savannah’s 200th birthday pretty soon, though, I think a visit to her house and re-introducing myself as kin would make for fascinating conversation, don’t you? She’s had to have known about her genealogy.”
“Yes, but if Annabelle’s son passed for white, from the information we have here, the truth of Henry’s parentage, beyond Annabelle, died with whomever was privy to that information back then. She has no idea there’s mixed blood in her ancestry, let alone a former slave.”
“Time to make a phone call.”
Chapter 7
Violet looked up Cassie’s number on the party invitation and made the call before she lost her nerve. Thank goodness she hadn’t thrown the thing out yet. Awkward wouldn’t begin to describe how their conversation would go. It rang a few times on Cassie’s end, and then she answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi Cassie’?” She coughed, clearing her throat. “This is Violet. Violet Adams.”
“Well, I must say I’m a bit shocked. Whatever have you called me for?”
“I’m a bit amazed I called you, too, considering. But Noah and I were wondering if we could stop by for a bit. He’s found some interesting facts about…Savannah’s history. He thought you’d find it personally intriguing. Especially with the bicentennial coming up and all, and you being a history teacher. We’re willing to set aside any discomfort or awkwardness we might feel, if you are willing to, for the sake of historical transparency.”
“I see. Well, you’ve piqued my interest, that’s for sure. I guess I can spare you some time. If you can come over now, I can delay my manicure.”
“Now? Manicure? I thought you were at school today.”
“Oh, heavens, no! I took the day off to recuperate from the party. Had to monitor the cleanup, of course. Lord knows I have plenty of sick days in the bank.”
“Okay then. We’ll be over shortly. Goodbye.” Violet shook her head and took a deep breath in and blew it out. Nerves of steel. That’s what she had. Ah! Who was she kidding? Adrenaline coursed through her veins like a thousand marching ants.
Noah sat on the living room couch, a knee bobbing furiously. “So, we’re on?”
She stopped pacing before the fireplace and sat beside him, resting a hand to still his nervousness. “Noah, Noah, Noah. This is going to be quite a meeting. I can sense it just from her tone. We need to go. Now. Do you have your journals, printouts, whatever you need to back up your claim?”
“Yes.” He patted the soft leather pouch beside him. “They’re right here in my bag I made extra copies of everything.”
“Then I’ll go grab my purse and keys, and my heart. I think I left it on the floor over there.”
Before she could get up, he swiped her hair off her shoulders and caressed her cheek. “A bit anxious, like me?”
“A bit.” She laughed nervously. “But whatever happens, we are in this together. I am all in and standing right beside you.”
“I love you, Violet. Thank you for saying yes when I asked you to help me all those months ago.”
“I love you, too. And you’re welcome.”
* * *
Violet turned the radio on for the car ride over. They both needed distraction, and belting out Bohemian Rhapsody and other classic rock tunes was the perfect one. Twenty minutes from door to door. She was shocked. Traffic was light. She expected to have another ten minutes of driving when she had no choice but to pull up the long plantation driveway. Maybe they could stay in the car for ten minutes as she gathered herself together. Normally quite self-assured, Cassie was now an unknown variable to her, sending her anxiety levels soaring.
“My mother used to say, ‘Hope for the best. Expect the worst.’ So that’s what we’re gonna do when we get in there.”
“Yes, sir!”
“First of all, I still wanna look for that portrait. I can ask her about it, and when she shows it to us, that’ll be my chance to segue into the discussion.”
“That’s actually a great idea. Get her talking about her is the perfect way to then share your news.”
They exited the car and marched on up the wooden steps to the expansive porch. Violet’s home had a porch, as well, but it couldn’t hold a candle to this one with its row of rocking chairs and cafe tables ready for folks to have lemonade and cookies around it. She stepped up to the door and rang the bell. Who exactly would let them in? Would Cassie greet them herself or would she have a housekeeper let them in?
“Good afternoon. You must be Violet and Noah.” An older woman sporting a warm smile and a maid’s uniform of gray and white ushered them inside. “Mrs. Windruff is out on the back terrace waiting for you.”
“Thank you.” Violet smiled politely and gave Noah the “start looking around” nudge.
“I need to get back to my work, but you can see she’s right outside the kitchen door.”
“Yes, thanks,” Violet said. The pair of them ambled through the grand foyer and down the hall to the oversized kitchen of many a chef’s dreams.
“Her picture wasn’t in the foyer or here. It must be in one of the rooms I was in while at the party. I’m going to have to come right out and ask her about it.”
He opened the French doors to the patio and Cassie stood by her seat, looking rather upper-crusty in her white silk pantsuit and gold jewelry ensemble adorning her neck, ears, fingers and wrists. She’d pulled out all the stops. To intimidate? To show herself as better? Neither would work on Violet. Her ex-husband was the last one she’d allowed to manipulate her emotions.
“Violet. Noah. Please have a seat. I just had Regina make some fresh lemonade for this curious meetin’. I must also offer an indulgence of Red Velvet Cake, still here from the party. Never cut into. We should do so now. Noah, would you do us the honor?”
Noah took the knife from her. “Always the hostess, Cassie? Thank you. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“No trouble at all. So, go on. Cut the cake.”
Seeing as though they had no choice but to go along, Violet sat and watched Noah cut tender pieces of the delectable cake and served them to the two women first.
Cassie took a forkful and leaned back in her seat as though she were having a moment. “Oh, I must compliment Wicked Cakes! They are the best by far. Noah, you have some intriguin’ historical facts to share with me? Facts that might interest my students, perhaps?”
“I’m not sure about your students, although you never know with kids what’ll catch their attention. I think you’ll be the one to get the most out of what I’ve discovered. First
of all, I have a question.”
“By all means.”
“Do you know the people’s names in the portraits you have about your house?”
“Yes, I do. They’re all family in some way. Not Mr. Windruff’s family, though. Mine. This house and much of its contents has been in my family since before the Civil War. Obviously, there are new pieces of furniture done to period. But the art in this house has been here that long.”
“Incredible. There was one portrait that drew my attention, but I don’t recall where it’s hanging. It’s of a young woman, blondish hair, sitting on swing in a gown that looks fancy enough for a Cotillion. Do you recall the painting?”
“Oh, yes. That would be Miss Annabelle Hawkins, daughter of Samuel Hawkins, the original owner of this fine plantation house. Quite a lovely portrait, that one. I’m proud to say that I’m directly descended from her.”
Noah cast a quick, victorious glance over at Violet, which she returned with heart in her throat.
“Cassie, as you may remember, the reason I’m here in Savannah is to research my family tree and its branches. With Violet’s help, I’ve been able to fill in the gaps to complete its history.”
“How lovely for you. Pardon me for sayin’ so, but why would your family history be of interest to me at all? It’s obvious that you’re black, so I imagine you found slaves in your past. That’s a rather common occurrence around here with black folk. I, on the other hand, come from a long line of proud plantation owners. All white, of course.”
“That’s the extraordinary news I have to share with you.” Noah paused and steadied his hands on his thighs. “Annabelle Hawkins’ son, Henry, was also the son of Benjamin Blackman. Benjamin Blackman was a slave of Samuel Hawkins who escaped to freedom using the Underground Railroad in 1856. He and Annabelle had an affair prior to that. They planned to run away together. Her parents found out she’d gotten pregnant by Benjamin and kept her at home under lock and key until the birth of the child. Benjamin successfully escaped. He eventually landed in New York, married, and started a new family.
“The baby was born so light-skinned, they passed him off as white. Annabelle gave the boy her last name of Hawkins. She never married. When Henry grew up, he married and had boys, who had boys of their own, and so on, so the name Hawkins continued to thrive. Benjamin Blackman’s family in New York thrived as well, and his name passed on to generations after him. Cassie, Benjamin Blackman was Annabelle’s lover and Henry’s father. Benjamin also is a direct ancestor of mine. That means you and I are related. Distantly, but related just the same.”
A hush overtook the grounds, as not a single bird or insect chirped. Not a breath was taken. Cassie sat motionless, stone-faced. As he’d told his story, her face showed signs of building horror, with eyes widening and fake smile melting into a ghastly dropping of the jaw. She said nothing for what seemed an interminable amount of time.
“Cassie?” Violet pushed her chair back, ready to pick her up off the ground if so much as the slightest breeze dared to blow passed. “Are you okay?”
Cassie’s eyes narrowed and she grabbed the lip of the table with her bejeweled hands. “How dare you?”
“What do you mean?” Noah relaxed in his seat, leaning with an air of confidence. Whether he actually felt that way, Violet had no idea, but she prayed so.
“How dare you come into my home and besmirch my family’s good name with your story of filth and lecherous behavior? Liar! What you are suggestin’ is absolutely preposterous. I know what this is really about. You found a nugget of information and now you want a piece of the Hawkins pie. It always boils down to money when snakes like you slither into our lives. Well, you’re not getting’ a damn penny of reparations out of us, so you can take your wild accusations of black slave blood taintin’ my bloodline and slither right on out of my home immediately.”
“I don’t want your money, Cassie. I have irrefutable proof about our families and their ancestry. Irrefutable. Take it or leave it. I made a copy of all the research for you.” Noah stood, pulled out a folder and placed it on the table. “I’d hoped you would’ve reacted differently, given the day and age we’re living in, and be excited about this discovery, but I guess I really shouldn’t have been so surprised. Well, you get to have a slave in your bloodline. I got that, too, and a bunch of racist relatives to boot. I consider you the luckier one. Enjoy your nice, privileged life, Cassie.”
Noah reached for Violet’s hand and held on tightly as he led her through the French doors, down the hall, through the foyer, and out the front. Noah didn’t speak as they pulled away from the house. He said not a word as they drove back to Violet’s home by the river. He left his bag on the back porch and headed to the riverbank. Violet gave him space as Cassie’s reaction hit him harder than either had expected despite recognizing she’d probably balk at the news. She did quite a lot more than that.
What had he expected? Warm hugs, a round of Kumbayah, and an instantaneous decrying of her shameful ancestry? Of course not. He picked up a rock and tossed it in the river. So, what had him so pissed off? Cassie’d shown much of her colors the evening of the party and at the ice cream shop, so her reaction was totally in keeping with her image up to that point. He’d been called a lot of things in his life. New Yorkers don’t hold back. Never had he been accused of the things Cassie had accused him of. Why couldn’t wanting to know his own family’s history and making connections to relatives newly found be the end game? Why did she have to twist it into something devious, conniving, and greedy?
His foul mood worsened as he realized he was wasting precious time out by the river, alone, instead of holding in his arms the precious woman who had supported him throughout this journey. Harboring anger or disappointment would not serve him well at this point. He needed to make the most of his last hours with Violet. He ran back to the house, a man on a mission.
He flung open the back door. “Violet! Violet!”
She scurried in from the living room. “Noah? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Right now? What’s wrong is we’re not naked, making love until we ache. That’s what’s wrong.” Noah tore off his t-shirt and shucked his bottoms to the floor. “You best catch up with me or that dress’ll be rags in a couple of minutes.”
Without a word, Violet shimmied out of her dress and popped off her bra. Before she could get her panties off, Noah did it for her, and then grabbed her warm, supple body to his. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him in a fierce embrace. He bent his head down to nuzzle her neck and breathe her in.
“My work is done. I’ve solved my family’s mysteries. Cassie can do whatever the hell she wants with it. I’m satisfied. Now, all I need is you. We have a few more hours together. All I want to think about, feel, know, is you and your body.”
Violet peered up at him with tear-laden eyes, and as she cupped his face in her hands, she kissed his lips with trembling ones of her own. “I don’t want you to go.”
He hoisted her up and she raised her legs to lock around his hips. “I don’t either. We’ll work it out, Violet. I’ll come back. Often. I promise.” He walked them into the living room and they christened the sofa. Then they moved to the stairs but didn’t quite make it to the second floor. She had to have him, she said, in every possible place so she could imagine him there when he was gone. When they finally arrived in her bedroom, they wrestled and tangled and satisfied each other in creative ways. He’d never look at a window seat the same way ever again. In fact, he thought a window seat would make a perfect addition to his built-in cabinetry line offerings.
Too exhausted to move, they now lay across her bed, staring up at the ceiling. “You gonna be able to walk to your gate?”
He chuckled. “Don’t know. Might have to call a skycap with a wheelchair.”
She rolled over, snuggling next to him. “Thanksgiving will be here before we know it.”
“I’ll get my tickets tomorrow, then. I’ll come in the weekend before. Then we
can have nine days together.”
“Thanks for reading my mind. Now I have something to look forward to besides our texting.”
“Damn, we gotta get moving. Cleaned up and packed up. The shuttle will be here shortly.” He held her close and kissed her deeply before getting up and taking a quick shower.
After her turn, they tidied up the mess they’d made of everything and sat arm in arm, hands laced together, on the front porch swing waiting for the evil car that would take him away from her.
“This trip has turned out to be more than I could’ve ever hoped for. I discovered my past and found love with you.”
“I have a confession to make.”
“Oh no. What is it?”
“Remember when you said you’d been crushing on me?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I was, too. Noah, all you have to do is speak and I’m putty in your hands. There. I said it. It’s out. I feel so much better.”
“I’m so glad and flattered. My voice, huh? You mean I coulda had you months ago?”
“Like, the first time we spoke.”
“Hmm. Good to know. Never mind sexting. We’re switching to skyping, sweetheart. That way I can look at ya while driving you crazy.”
“I think I could become addicted to that.” Violet straightened in her seat. “Shit, here comes the shuttle. Oh God, Noah. This can’t be happening right now.”
He grabbed her in a fierce embrace and stroked her hair. “Shh. We’ll get through this. Just pretend I’m going on a business trip and I’ll be coming back home soon.”
She gazed up at him through tear-laden eyes. “I like the sound of that. ‘Coming back home.’ I can fool myself, I guess.”
He tipped her chin up and kissed her softly, gently, and for as long as the shuttle driver could stand it before honking his horn. She walked him over and watched him until she could no longer see the car. At that point she knew. Despite the phone calls and all the communicating that would happen, she would be horribly miserable until Thanksgiving. Half of her heart and soul had left her.
