Diane T. Ashley

by Jasmine

  As she moved to go outside and collect her other two children so she could get them ready for lunch, Lily wondered why life had to be so complicated. Why couldn’t things run as smoothly as they did when the family was on the river? Their biggest problems then were a cranky boiler or passenger. No prickly questions of love or heartbreak.

  She could hardly wait to get to New Orleans. Maybe her friends in that city could offer sage advice or some way to redirect Jasmine’s energy. She didn’t want her sister to continue pining about, dreaming of a future that would only lead to heartbreak and disappointment.

  Chapter Five

  Jasmine peeked out at the audience. Miss Deborah, the lady who had run Mercy House since before Jasmine was born, sat on the front row. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her kindly face wore a wide smile.

  Jasmine didn’t even mind seeing Miss Deborah’s assistant, Marguerite, occupying the seat next to her. Beyond her were Jean Luc Champney with his wife and mother. David’s blond hair was visible on the second row. He sat with Papa, Lily, Camellia, and the rest of her family. Beyond them she could hear the rustle of the audience, but she couldn’t make out the faces.

  “Are you ready, Cordelia?”

  Recognizing her character’s name, Jasmine swung around and curtsied to Cedrick Wilson, who was playing King Lear, the title character in Shakespeare’s play. A flowing white beard had been glued to his face and obscured everything below his brown eyes. He tugged on the beard with one hand as he waited for her response.

  Jasmine glanced down at her own outfit and some of her pre-performance excitement ebbed. Miss Deborah and Tamar had done an excellent job sewing the various costumes for their project. Camellia had not liked the idea of using material taken from the rag bins at Les Fleurs, and Jasmine had wanted to agree with her. She would have loved a fancy costume, complete with flowing robes and a conical hat. But then ever-practical Lily had suggested that the money they would spend on new cloth would do much better going to replace the orphanage roof.

  “Buck up, Jasmine.” Cedrick’s voice teased her. “You don’t die until the end of the play.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  Cedrick was the handsome younger son of one of the wealthiest plantation owners in Natchez. Jasmine had been flattered when he set aside his philandering tendencies to spend time helping with their production. For a while her family had thought he might be trying to fix his interest with her, but Cedrick had never been anything but a friend. She valued his friendship but knew, as he apparently did, that they had no warmer feelings toward each other.

  “I think the whole town is out there.” He inclined his head toward the audience.

  Jasmine followed his gaze. “What else is there to do in Natchez?”

  He raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. She had spent enough time at the docks to hear about the “entertainments” available at the various inns and gambling saloons.

  The voice of the stage manager interrupted their whispered conversation. “Take your places everyone.”

  As the play began, Cedrick took her hand and squeezed it. Jasmine mouthed the opening words along with the actors playing the parts of the dukes of Kent and Gloucester, George Reed and Tom Hayes. “I’ve never seen anyone more focused than you, Jasmine. I—”

  Other actors joined them, including Ellen Tate and Wendy Jeffers, who were playing King Lear’s older daughters, Goneril and Regan.

  “Is it time for our entrance?” Ellen asked.

  Cedrick nodded and dropped Jasmine’s hand. As she followed him and the others onto the stage, Jasmine wished for a moment that he were interested in her. At least Cedrick understood what made her heart pound with anticipation. He didn’t try to convince her to let go of her dreams. He would probably even support her desire to leave Natchez. But she didn’t have time for romance. She had a career to pursue.

  “Love, and be silent.” Jasmine’s first words were a bit shaky. She needed to forget everything else. She could not fail now, or Lily would never take her seriously. When it came time to speak again, she put everything into the words. They soared over the audience, bringing the reaction she had hoped for and setting up the Bard’s tragedy.

  The curtain rose and fell, each scene tightening the knot until none of the characters could succeed. From her place off-stage in “prison,” Jasmine realized her eyes had adjusted to the dim light in the audience. She could see a few of the women dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs, and her heart lifted. This might be a ragtag group of actors and their stage might be nothing more than a raised dais with homemade curtains, but still they were managing to elicit emotion from the audience.

  By the time the curtain fell for the final time, Jasmine knew they were a success. Cedrick winked as he took her hand and led her to the center of the stage. They waited as the other actors crowded around them—from the smallest of the children who’d spoken no lines to those who had memorized dozens of speeches over the past weeks—all proud of the work they had done to ensure the orphanage would continue operating.

  The curtain rose, and applause began in earnest. Cedrick pulled her with him as he stepped forward. She curtsied while he bowed, wishing he would not be so attentive now. Everyone would think they had an understanding.

  Jasmine forced her mouth into a wide smile and concentrated on the future. One day she would perform in front of a real audience. She would stand in front of a heavy curtain made of rich crimson velvet and bow to a full theater of well-educated patrons who had paid hefty prices for the chance to watch her perform.

  Instead of enjoying this moment, Jasmine found herself wondering if Lily would ever allow her to follow her own dreams. She wanted more, much more, than what Natchez had to offer. She wanted fame. She wanted to see her name on a theater marquis, to be feted and adored by people from all over America. From all over the world, actually.

  Aunt Dahlia might not approve, but that wouldn’t stop Jasmine. She would not be ashamed of her own dreams even if her family didn’t support them. Providing entertainment to others was a time-honored tradition. It gave people chances to forget for a while their boring, humdrum lives.

  Since she’d been a youngster, Jasmine had found satisfaction in performing for others. Family and friends all told her she was talented. If only Lily would let her go to Chicago or New York—anywhere that would give her a chance to see her dreams come true. Why couldn’t anyone else understand that? Was she always to be alone?

  David stood back a little as Jasmine’s family congratulated her. He wished he understood why she had such a strong hold on his heart in spite of everything. She was beautiful, of course. But he had met beautiful women in both California and Illinois. No one intrigued him like the dark-haired minx who was accepting the compliments of her family with an attitude adopted from British royalty.

  Jasmine Anderson was far from perfect. She was headstrong. A grin formed on his lips. He couldn’t really blame her for that. None of the Anderson sisters could be described as wallflowers, despite their floral names. Lily was a riverboat owner. Camellia had spent part of the War Between the States nursing soldiers on a riverboat and had been at Vicksburg while it was under siege. He supposed Jasmine was simply following in her older sisters’ footsteps.

  But did she have to trample on his heart at the same time?

  “What did you think of the performance?” Marguerite’s voice startled him.

  “Impressive.” He bowed to her. “Did the orphanage benefit?”

  “Oh, yes.” Her dark gaze turned toward Jasmine. “Your Jasmine is quite the center of attention this evening.”

  He could feel heat rising to his face. “I thought I told you there’s nothing between us. She’s not my Jasmine … apparently she never has been.”

  Marguerite tilted her head. “I know what you said, but I can read the signs for myself. If you’re not careful, that girl will tear out your heart and leave you a bitter man.”r />
  “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” He regretted the cold words as soon as they left his mouth.

  Marguerite’s eyes widened. Then she nodded. “I’m sorry if I overstepped the boundaries of our friendship.”

  He put out a hand to stop her, but it was too late. Marguerite moved toward Miss Deborah and began gathering the children. He ought to catch up to her. Apologize. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Marguerite was getting too close to the truth for his comfort.

  It was time for him to leave Natchez anyway. He should have headed to New Orleans a day or two ago, but he’d wanted to see the play.

  With a disgusted shake of his head, David moved away from the crowd surrounding Jasmine. She would never miss his presence. She had more attention than any of the rest of the cast. Even “King Lear” had not received so many compliments.

  Blake Matthews broke free of the crowd and moved toward David. “Lily sent me to invite you to dinner with us at the Bluff.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t—”

  “You really expect me to tell Lily you won’t come?” Blake put an arm around his shoulder. “Do you know how much discord your refusal will cause?”

  David chuckled. “We can’t have that.” He would rather have returned to his room to brood over his wayward heart, but he didn’t want to upset Lily. She’d been so good to him over the years. “I’ll get my horse and meet you there.”

  “Excellent.” Blake pulled his arm away and pointed at David. “If you don’t show up, I will have to come looking for you.”

  Both men laughed. David’s spirit lifted a bit. If he could keep his distance from the star of the evening, it might be good for him to get out.

  He retrieved his rented horse from a nearby stable and rode down Washington Street past stately homes. A dog raced along the length of one iron fence, barking until David and his horse passed the border of the home’s lot.

  He arrived at the Bluff, a two-story building hunched on the edge of the bluff it was named for, overlooking the rushing waters of the Mississippi. Tethering his horse, he tugged on his neckcloth. Why had he agreed to come? He might have defected if not for the arrival of his hosts.

  The restaurant looked as though it was being besieged, as at least a dozen people descended on it from the three carriages. Mrs. Champney was followed by her son, Jean Luc, and her daughter-in-law, Anna. Anna’s aunt alit and stood looking up at her escort, Jasmine’s father Henrick Anderson. Jasmine’s aunt Dahlia and uncle Phillip were the first to disembark from the next carriage, followed by Camellia and her husband, Jonah. The final carriage contained Lily and Blake and Jasmine, who seemed to be still riding high on her success.

  David stepped forward to offer her his arm, but she swept past him, her little nose in the air.

  Camellia rescued him from embarrassment when she put her hand on his arm. “We can always count on you to be the gentleman, David. I have missed you since you left us for California and Illinois.”

  Recovering his wits, David smiled and answered the questions she peppered him with. By the time they were all seated, he found himself on Camellia’s left hand. Aunt Dahlia sat on his left. He could see Jasmine’s dark hair some distance away and drew a breath of relief. At least he would not have to worry about being snubbed again.

  “Lily says you are a policeman.” Dahlia claimed his attention with her statement.

  David shook his head. “I’m more of a detective.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Policemen are paid by the city. My employer is paid by the people who need his help.”

  Her husband, Phillip, leaned forward. “So you are a mercenary?”

  David supposed it was a fair question. Picking up his fork and spearing an olive, he considered how to answer the man. “Except that I am not a soldier, sir, I guess you can say that is a proper title for what we do.”

  “David’s organization is quite famous.” Camellia joined the conversation. “He’s a Pinkerton.”

  Both Dahlia and Phillip frowned at him as though they’d never heard of the agency at all. Camellia patted his hand. “I do miss you, though. No one can keep Jasmine in check like you can.”

  “I don’t know about that. Jasmine is high-spirited, but she’s always known how to get what she wants.” David glanced toward the girl in question.

  She threw back her head and laughed at that moment, showing the full length of her white neck.

  The waiter standing nearby couldn’t take his eyes off her. David wanted to take the fellow out back and explain basic manners. A pain in his hand made him look down. His fork was no longer as straight as it had been.

  He looked up and caught Camellia’s understanding gaze. “Your sentiments are nothing to be ashamed of, David. Jasmine is too naive to realize her effect on those around her. I’m afraid she is headed for trouble, but she will not listen to us. Perhaps you might have better luck.”

  Wondering what he could say to Jasmine that might make a difference, David concentrated on the food on his plate. She would never listen to him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to put himself in the position of being ignored or worse. “I’m leaving for New Orleans in the next day or two. I doubt there will be time for me to do much.”

  Lily, sitting on the opposite side of the table, looked up. “You’re going to New Orleans? Then you must go with us. It will be like old times. We’ll have such fun reminiscing.”

  “I thought you were going to Memphis.”

  Lily shook her head.

  Feeling like a butterfly caught in a windstorm, David shrugged. “How can I say no?”

  He looked toward the far end of the table once more, and his gaze clashed with Jasmine’s. In them he read a challenge. A challenge he was loath to accept.

  Chapter Six

  At least we’re not carrying many passengers this trip.” Jasmine smiled at her nephew Noah. “You won’t have as many chores as we used to have when your mama and papa had their first boat.”

  “Papa says that’s bad news.” Noah’s bright blue gaze, so much like his father’s, watched her scrub a greasy spot from one of the dining tables.

  “Your papa and your grandpapa are in agreement on that.”

  The boy frowned. “Do they know about the chores?”

  Jasmine laughed. She could understand why her sisters enjoyed having their children around them. “Maybe not.”

  She moved to another table and bent over it, scrubbing with a strong arm. The smells from the galley made her mouth water. Picking up a fresh tablecloth from the stack she and Noah had brought into the dining room, Jasmine shook it out and spread it over the table with a deft move that came from years of practice.

  “Why do you wipe the table if you’re going to put a cloth on it, too?” Noah pushed one of the chairs toward the table.

  “So everything will be clean.”

  He frowned as though trying to grasp the concept of cleaning what would not be seen. Jasmine laughed and ruffled his dark hair with her fingers. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

  The familiar words brought a frown to her face. It was exactly what Lily used to say all the time when she was younger. When had she become the responsible one? The grown-up?

  “There you are!” Aunt Tessie breezed into the room and pointed at Noah. “I’ve been looking all over for you, young man. It’s time for your mathematics lesson.”

  Noah cast a desperate look at Jasmine.

  In spite of the empathy she felt, all Jasmine could do was shrug. “It won’t be so bad.”

  Noah’s shoulders fell. He looked so pitiful.

  Aunt Tessie put a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. “Come along.”

  Jasmine watched them leave before returning to her work. Noah was growing up so fast. Funny how childhood seemed so endless to the child and so quick to adults.

  “This doesn’t look like the right activity for a famous actress.”

  The deep voice sent gooseflesh running up her
arms. Jasmine took a deep breath before turning to face David Foster. “You’re quite the comedian.”

  The look on his face made her regret her waspish tone of voice.

  “I’m sorry, David. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

  A strained smile appeared on his face. “I’m not sure why you’re so angry with me.”

  What could she answer? The truth was too painful. She had missed him much more than he had missed her. “Who said I was angry?”

  His gaze challenged her words.

  Jasmine lifted her chin, dredging up a measure of self-preservation. She would not be manipulated.

  “Your sisters are worried about you.”

  He only thought she’d been angry with him before. His meddling words made her blood boil. She could feel the fire in her eyes. How dare David presume to speak to her as though they were still as close as they’d been growing up? “What my sisters may or may not think isn’t any of your business.”

  “You’re right, of course.” He sounded resigned. As though he knew he was in the wrong. The stubborn thrust of his jaw, however, told her how determined he was to continue meddling. “I care about you, Jasmine. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  She knew she should calm herself, but concentrating on what was wrong between them gave her the excuse to maintain a certain distance from him. It protected her heart. “You don’t have to worry about me. I know exactly what I want and how to get it.”

  David picked up a stack of dinner plates and distributed them on the tables like a dealer would a deck of cards.

  So he was not going to say anything? Fine. Two could play at that game. She picked up the salad and dinner forks, placing them to the left of the plates he distributed. As they worked, her ire faded, replaced by their comfortable rhythm. It seemed so natural, so normal. He put one knife and two spoons to the right of each place setting while she folded the linen napkins into neat triangles and set them in the center of each plate.