by Rita Hestand
"And on you a blush is adorable."
"May we take a honeymoon?" She asked.
"Of course! Where would you like to go?"
She blushed profusely as the feather dipped against the cleavage of her dress. She squirmed.
"Our honeymoon should be somewhere there are no parents to scold us, no bosses to disprove us. But I want you to pick the place."
"Alright. We will plan it then. And yes, we need the utmost privacy our first week of marriage. I will not think about work, or war, only of you." He promised.
"There's so much to see of our world, but I fear that week we won't be seeing quite as much." She gushed.
"I'm afraid I'll be too busy looking at you to enjoy the scenery that much." He smiled sexily. "And you must prepare yourself for the shock. Most of the south had been greatly affected by the war, in one way or another. Things are not as they were. No place, no human is the same."
"You are encouragable. First you say you will forget the war, and then you bring it up." She laughed. "And it might do me good to see what has happened to our country. Maybe by seeing it, I can understand the need for it better. Texas has been shielded from the harshness of war, to some extent. Not many plantations were disturbed. Thank God. Not that some parts of our state weren't affected, but not like you say the rest of the country. I think we were bothered more by carpetbaggers and men who deserted."
"Then we'll see it together. We might spend one day touring the countryside. But the rest of the time, I want to wine and dine you well. I want to spend most of the time with you, alone, in the bedroom. And as you say with no parents breathing down our necks." And then he proceeded to show her just how much he wanted that.
Chapter Seven
"Old Jen, Old Jen, wait until you see this…" Melanie cried as she dashed through the huge old house, opening every door to find her.
The maids ran behind her, closing the doors.
Excited she ran through the parlor, through the dining room to the kitchen to the back room where Ole Jen stayed. She knocked on the door as it opened.
"I'm sorry," Melanie cried, "but you've got to see this."
Old Jen whirled around and grabbed her by the arms. "You've got the material, already?"
"We do…look. It's so beautiful. I can't wait to see what you can do with this!" She pulled out the silk with the lace and beads she'd bought.
"Lord have mercy, that's the most beautiful material I ever did see. Oh, you will look beautiful. I'll make sure of it. Thank you for letting me do this for ya?" Old Jen hugged her. "It will be a pure pleasure to see you walk down the aisle in this…yes ma'am."
"I can't think of anyone I'd rather have make it. I've loved everything you ever made for me. And you already have my measurements and can fit me so perfectly." Melanie laughed. "I wouldn't dream of letting anyone else do it."
"Lord, Lord, it will be a pure pleasure working with something that pretty." Ole Jen fingered the material and smiled. "Now come along, I want you to tell me how you want it to look." She pulled her to the bed and sat the material down so she could look at it and feel it. Ole Jen's expression was full of mirth. "Tell me how you see it looking, honey."
"We got lots of different ideas. But I was thinking about something off the shoulder, and low at the neck, it will be the prettiest thing this side of the Mississippi, I'm sure. I never felt anything so soft in my life."
Melanie forgot about Joe, as he peeked his head through the doorway. He grinned when he saw the two of them with their heads together over the material.
"Looks like the two of you are having fun. Can I join you?"
"Not on your life. This is a wedding dress…and the groom is not allowed." Ole Jen fussed at him playfully.
Melanie went to the door where he stood, and tiptoed to kiss him. "You can't see this. You've got to go."
"Just a peek?" He laughed.
"No…now run along we have a lot to do here." She leaned the distance to kiss his cheek.
"All right my love. I know you'll be the most beautiful bride in all the state of Texas."
Melanie smiled and pushed him out.
She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes and when she opened them, Ole Jen was staring with a huge smile.
"Ole Jen, I'm so happy."
"I can sees that. Now we've got lots of work to do."
Ole Jen and Melanie talked for hours, suggesting different ways to change it up a bit and several styles until they hit upon what Melanie wanted. Then she looked up at her. "I ain't never seen you so happy. The love shines from your eyes, girl. It's been my wish all along that you marry and be happy, and I'm glad I’m here to see it."
"Oh you don't know how happy I am." Melanie whirled around the room. "I'm so in love. It's as if I've been in some sort of trance for the last few years. I dreamed of marrying him. Dreamed of being Mrs. Armstrong. Now it's all coming true. I couldn't be happier. You know I've always loved him, but…he's so…different now. In a good way of course. But for the first time, he's as happy as I am over the wedding. And Ole Jen, when he kisses me…well…it makes me blush so…he's so…romantic."
Ole Jen smiled sadly. "I can see that in your beautiful eyes." She paused a moment to reflect. "Do you think he has changed much since the war?"
"Oh yes, a lot, but for the better, I have to say." Melanie's voice softened. "He seems to appreciate just being alive. He seems to feel more, sense more, and appreciate more. Naturally, he is more serious than he used to be, but I like that. Before he left…I don't know, there were some things I thought him frivolous about. He used to take this place for granted; now he appreciates it. He wants to work the land and make it better. And I'm going to help him."
"He does love you, you must always remember that," Ole Jen told her. "He truly does."
Melanie sensed something in her words, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Like a warning or something. She shrugged the eerie feeling away, and sighed. "Am I wrong to be so in love with him?"
"Why no…of course not. It's good you love him so…"
"Since he's returned he's been so attentive, so amorous too…"
"Then the sooner we get you wed, the better…" Ole Jen chuckled.
"Maybe you should pinch me, and wake me up. I've never been this happy…For years now I envisioned his return almost in the exact manner in which it happened. But it was a dream; I never expected it to be a reality."
"Well, I'll get busy on this gown soon, are you sure you like the way I described it? Ole Jen, when he first saw me again, I can't describe the look upon his face. It was the same look in my heart." Melanie saw Ole Jen smile serenely and shook her head. "I shouldn't go on an on about it. We need to get to work on this dress. The wedding will be here before you know it."
"Oh yes, it will be perfect. Off the shoulder, long and puffy sleeves, well beaded and lots of lace. Sounds gorgeous. I can't wait to see it." Ole Jen took her in her arms. "Baby, I'm glad you are happy."
Melanie nearly cried, she had such fond affection for the old black lady. "I truly love him, I will always love him. And I'll make him a good wife. And you…you've been like a second mother to me, and to Joe. We love you too, Ole Jen."
She hugged her, "I know that. Of course, you will make him a fine wife, now you run along so I can get started on what we want for this dress. I'm so excited."
"Will I need to be fitted first?"
"Not yet, in a few days, yet. However, I got your measurements wrote down already. I can have this done by the end of the week, I'm sure."
"Thank you for everything." Melanie cried.
~*~
Joe found his father in the sitting room. At one time, his father would never be caught doing nothing. However, Joe had noticed how the old man took his time these days. Perhaps time hadn't been as kind to him as Joe first thought. His father had aged since the war. He was grayer and heavier and Joe could tell his energy had waned a little.
"Are you alright, Father?" Joe asked sweeping th
rough the room with bold strides.
George looked at his son. "I'm fine. Just fine. I thought I'd take a little time to enjoy the morning. I love looking out that window, seeing things grow, seeing my people keeping it up. A man can be proud of what he has without being arrogant. In here I can fully appreciate what I have and what I've accomplished without being pompous."
"Of course you are right, Father." Joe's perplexed expression was not something he could hide.
"But I must confess…I do have something on my mind." George looked away with a sudden sadness.
"What is it father, you looked worried…."
"I worry about your brother. I've paid for his release, and still I get no solid word on when he will return. I wonder how ill he is and if he's been wounded somehow." George said not looking at him.
Joe stooped in front of him so he could look him in the eyes. "You are worried about Sam?" The way he asked that seemed to startle his father.
George glanced up at his son, a little wide-eyed, and a tad angry. "You think I don't worry over him?" His expression grew serious. "Of course, I do. He's my son. And he isn't home yet. Although I'm grateful that this dastardly war did not kill him, I fear the pirates might have done him more harm than they say. I certainly don't trust their word. You yourself have told me how bad it was aboard that ship. Perhaps he was mistreated more than we know, or he has injuries we don't even know anything about."
"Should I try to fetch him, myself, Father?" Joe asked disturbed that his brother might be in real peril. He knew exactly how cruel the pirates could be, whipping and beating, throwing a person out to sea. He had been so overcome with having his beloved Melanie that he gave little regard to his brother's untimely return.
"No...I won't have the both of you in danger at once." George frowned. "Besides, we have a wedding to plan. But even that won't stop me from fretting about it, I'm afraid."
"Father, I've misjudged you" Joe came to stand beside him. "I thought…well, I thought perhaps you had little feelings for Sam. Now I see that you are worried, it pleases me. I've been on those ships. I know what they can do to a man. Where was the release supposed to happen?"
"In Galveston Bay. Three months ago…"
"Three months?" Joe's face contorted. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want to spoil your homecoming, son." He looked at Joe and smiled wanly. "I'll admit I've catered to you more than he. I'll admit, I think you can handle this place better. But love….son I love you both, equally. Sam was never the type to quarrel or try to best you. I admired that in him. I am sure now that I hurt him beyond words. I can't tell him how sorry I am. We have more than a few things needed saying to each other. I want the opportunity to say them."
Joe was dumbfounded. "I'm sure, since he's grown into a man now that he will come to understand you better. And I think it wouldn't hurt to show that love a little more, father."
This new revelation had Joe pondering what he and his brother had schemed.
George stared into his son's eyes, with a melancholy gleam in his eye. "Sam is more like your mother. I've always known that. However, he has a heart as big as Texas itself. He leads with his emotions. You are the strong one, the one that can lead this plantation into the next generations. I know that. It is a hard decision for a father to make, but one that must be made. If I favor you, it's because I know you are strong enough to step into my shoes and make things work. As I have done. It takes a certain kind of personality to make it all come together son; you'll realize that as time goes by. It isn't always an easy task, either. Sam is such a dreamer. But mark my word. I do love him. And I fear for his life."
"I feel I should tell you about my last time with Sam." Joe turned toward the window and stared out. He turned toward his father, and looked deep into his father's eyes and tried to read his feelings. It was impossible.
"Please do." His father encouraged.
"The war was over. And we'd made a pact that when it was over, if we were still alive, we'd meet in San Francisco and have a celebration. We met there, father. Although haggard and not in the best of health, Sam was there. He'd been wounded in the leg, and was still walking with a slight limp. Despite his feelings, we drank well into the night. We thought we were finally safe from death and destruction. We were wrong. We were shanghaied onto the Spanish vessel. Neither of us knew how, except we were so drunk we could hardly stand. We sailed the seas Father, being whipped every day with the leather as we oared the boat. If we rowed too slowly, they would whip us. If they didn't like our expression, they would whip us. My biggest fear was the rats that crawled over us at night. The food was never good. It was usually some kind of stew but so watered down there was barely anything in it. We worried over simple things like our teeth rotting out, or our hair. We'd seen it in others. When we first came aboard one man died as they beat him. That made a quick impression. What was worse, they didn't bother with a funeral, they just shoved him overboard, like an animal. You'd have been proud how Sam rebelled against them. I never saw him so bold. They fed us slop, not fit for pigs. It would be moldy bread, if there were bread. It was hard to keep up our strength up.
"Sam rebelled a time or two, and he paid mightily for it. They made me watch, and laughed as they beat him, then drug him into the bowels of the boat. I wouldn't see him for days. I feared for his life at times. However, the last time…they had beat him and thrown him down there. It had been over a week since I'd seen him. I remembered telling him that we could bide our time and try an escape, but he said there was nowhere to escape to. We had no boat, and the guards kept a steady watch on them at night.
George's brow furrowed. "You never saw him again?"
"No Father. I'm sorry."
"You said he'd changed. How?"
"Well you know as well as I that he never bucked authority. That is until we arrived on that ship. Maybe it began in the war, I don't know, I didn't see that first hand. But I saw a raw determination in him to get us off of that ship. I think something must have happened on that ship that broke the reserve he usually held for people. After a while, I saw a quiet defeat about him, as though they had nearly won the battle with him. Until the last revolt when he tossed the slop they fed us in their faces. That did it. They took the leather to him and beat him down. Then they threw him into the depths of the ship."
"Good Lord. I can't imagine Sam revolting like that. It's not his nature."
"The war had changed him a lot. He'd become more forceful. Before we left for the war he was frivolous and free spirited. But I saw a much different man after. He was anxious to get home, as though getting home might erase all the bad he had witnessed."
"They assured me when the money was paid that he would be returned." George boomed.
"Did they say whether it would be dead or alive?"
"I insisted he be returned unharmed or that I would come after them myself." His father said. "Can I not trust them to tell me the truth?"
"You cannot trust them at all, Father. But please, hear me, give this some time. Let us wait a bit before we do anything. If he isn't home by the end of the month, I'll go after him…I promise."
George nodded slowly. "Alright, if you think that best. But what could be keeping him?"
"Father, I hesitate to say this, but…well, he may be injured or very sick. He may be lying in some hospital trying to recover. For surely they know better after taking your money that he should be returned in good shape. A ship such as that carries diseases."
George's eyes met his. "That's what I've feared all along. That he is lying sick somewhere."
"We must give it a little more time…" Joe insisted. "After all my cousins haven't returned yet and the war has been over some time now."
"You are right, of course. But it is hard to wait and do nothing. Something my gut tells me he is in great danger."
"Then I will go, by the end of the month. I know where to look, father. I know people I can talk to. I can disguise myself and not be noticed. If he does not
return soon, I will go…."
"Thank you…I hate to ask it of you with your wedding so near. In fact, perhaps we should move the wedding up so that you can have your honeymoon and then go after him if he is not home by then."
Joe smiled, "He's my brother and I love him. Not only my brother, but also my twin. If they have harmed him, they will pay. I don't know how, just yet, but they will pay."
George nodded. "Yes, they will."
"It pleases me that I know how you feel about him now." Joe sighed and took his hand.
George watched his actions, shocked at the compassion. "He is my son. Despite the fact that he is no leader, he is my son…"
"Yes Father, he is…and you might be surprised how the war has changed him, too."
"Joseph, I love him as much as I love you. But…you are so different in so many ways."
"I suppose that is true…But, I have to admit there were times on the boat that I cried, father, like a baby!"
George looked at him, stood up and came to pat him on the shoulder. "I'm just glad you are home…"
Chapter Eight
The wedding was to be held at Golden Manor, and the reception at the Hamilton's. Joe's father went all out to see that everything was perfect. Melanie decided which kind of flowers she wanted and decorations. Every day brought her closer to being Mrs. Joseph Armstrong. Even her mother had come to help decorate and make sure the refreshments were correct. She had a way with overseeing things like that and Melanie was glad she was there to help. She and Father George got along famously most of the time.
"So, how do you think married life is going to be?" Minerva asked as she checked the list of things to do from Melanie.
"Delightful, mother." Melanie blushed. "I can hardly wait."
"Yes, I can see that. But that isn't all that marriage is about, Melanie. You'll have responsibilities now, seeing after the staff, planning parties and such."
"Joe tells me there hasn't been a party here in years."
