Heart of Glass

by Jill Marie Landis

  She cut him off.

  “I’m so happy you’ve had that epiphany, Colin.” She clasped her hands and turned away, then walked over to the long windows overlooking the garden maze. “That will free me to go back to New Orleans.”

  “You can’t.” Suddenly he didn’t want her going anywhere. “I’m barely on my feet.”

  “You’re getting stronger every day.” She continued to gaze toward the river. “I … I must go. I’ve found work with the architect Roger Jamison. It’s a wonderful opportunity to finally put my training to work and become a professional. I can no longer afford to work on drawings in my spare time.” Her brow creased with worry. “Because I need … to be useful.” She seemed hesitant to say more.

  “I think you may have misunderstood when I said that I would care for Amelie’s children.”

  “You’re not going to?” Kate asked.

  “Yes, of course I am, but I can’t do it alone.”

  He crossed the room, took hold of her hand, and watched the color leave her face. He wasn’t saying anything correctly.

  “I can’t do this alone, Kate. I need you here pushing and prodding. I need someone who won’t quit when things get tough.”

  She turned. “What are you saying?”

  “You can’t leave. Not yet.”

  She laughed, but there was no warmth in it. “A month ago you couldn’t wait to see the last of me.”

  “The children need you.” He couldn’t imagine dealing with them on his own. When he had no idea what to say to them, Kate did. If it hadn’t been for her the house would still be a shambles and he’d be wallowing in self-pity.

  “I’ll see them often. In fact, I’ve been thinking of ways we could share—”

  “I need you here, Kate. We all do.”

  He needed her to keep him from crawling back into the darkness, but to tell her that would make him feel less than a man.

  “Please, Kate, for the children. Stay.”

  They had paused beneath an oak draped with Spanish moss, a tree that had seen generations of his mother’s family grow and prosper. He let go of Kate’s hand, cupped her chin, and made her look up at him.

  “At least give me time to come up with a plan.” He paused a moment and then smiled. “Unless you already have one?”

  “My plan is to move back to town and lose myself in work.”

  “Just give me a few more weeks. A month at most.”

  Her gaze searched his face, but she was the first to look away.

  “Two weeks,” she said with a sigh. “I suppose I can stay two more weeks.”

  He grabbed her hand again, raised it to his lips, and kissed it.

  “Thank you, Kate. After the way I treated you, that’s more than I deserve.”

  Stunned, Kate watched him walk away. The sound of Eugenie’s voice as she called out to Damian drifted on the still air. Watching Colin negotiate the path back to the garçonnière, Kate placed her palm over the back of her hand where he’d kissed it and closed her eyes. Was her skin really hot to the touch or was she imagining it?

  She’d waited years for him to notice her, to see her as something more than Amelie’s best friend. She’d waited years to step out of the shadows of this house and have him truly see her.

  I need you, Kate. Stay for the children.

  Stay for the children, not for him.

  She opened her eyes to the brightness of one of the saddest days of her life. The sun was shining on the river, dancing like diamonds on the water. The recent storm had turned the leaves and grass bright green. Hidden promise in the soil was waiting to be awakened. She walked over and touched her palm to the rough trunk of the ancient oak and wondered if Colin would find a way.

  Two weeks.

  She would stay because he needed her, and when she left, she’d leave the better part of her heart behind.

  Somehow Kate made it through the evening meal with Myra and the children and saw them tucked in for the night. With the walls closing in on her, she put on a wrap, slipped outside, and found herself at the Baudier crypt. A wrought-iron bench had been placed near a huge cement urn that held a fern so overgrown its roots hung over the lip.

  Somewhere an owl hooted. Kate wasn’t aware of time. She had no idea how long she’d been sitting in the dark alone when she heard a twig snap behind her. Turning, she thought she saw movement near the oaks, but there was nothing but shadows. A chill went down her spine. A few erratic heartbeats later, Kate saw Eugenie walking toward her.

  “Miss Kate, you best come inside. No sense in your sittin’ out here in the dark by yourself.”

  “Night or day, it’s just as dark.” Kate slid over to one side of the bench and patted the space next to her. Eugenie hesitated before she finally sat down.

  “The sadness will ease. You’ll see,” Eugenie said.

  “How do you know?” Kate realized how harsh she sounded. “I’m sorry,” she added, immediately contrite. Surely Eugenie had suffered a life that was unimaginable. “That sounded as if I have absolutely no feelings. I’m truly sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. You’re just hurtin’.”

  Kate thought of the children upstairs aching for their mother, knowing Amelie was out here in the dark. Kate detested the raw hopelessness that held her in its grip.

  Eugenie’s voice cut through the silence. “I didn’t think I could go on when my son went missin’,” she said.

  “Tell me about him.” Eugenie needed to talk as much as Kate needed to take her mind off her own sorrow.

  “Mica was fifteen, but he was a big, strappin’ boy and always willin’ to work alongside his daddy and the others. We were so scared the Union soldiers garrisoned here were gonna conscript him into the army that we kept him busy and out of the way. When the day came that Miss Marie decided to move up to her cousins’ place, she had us load up a wagon with the furniture from her room, some linens, and a few of her clothes. The soldiers had taken most everything else, the silver, the china, odds and ends. Miss Marie was frantic and looked wild around the eyes, you know?”

  “Was she ill by then?”

  “She was thin. Didn’t eat much. None of us did ‘cause there wasn’t much to eat. She was sick at heart. We got the things she wanted packed up ready and told Mica to drive her up River Road to her cousins’ place.”

  Eugenie pleated the skirt of her black gown with her fingers and smoothed it out again. “That’s the last time we saw him.”

  “Would he have run off?”

  “No. Never.”

  “Do you think he was conscripted? Or maybe he went off to fight in a colored regiment.”

  Eugenie shrugged. “Not without tellin’ us. A couple of days later Simon went up the trail and found the wagon. Everything in it was gone, so he went on to the Baudiers’ and found Miss Marie there, but by then she was too far gone to tell him what happened.”

  “Too far gone?”

  Eugenie was quiet for a long while before Kate heard her whisper, “She finally lost her mind, Miss Kate. Simon said it was one of the worst things he ever seen.”

  “Did you tell Colin?”

  “He don’t need to carry that burden too.” She cleared her throat. “We searched the road all the way to Baton Rouge, but there was no sign of Mica. Simon’s got a sister up in Cleveland. We found her, but there was no work anyplace with so many newly freed folks lookin’ for jobs up north. We couldn’t stand the cold, so we headed south and lived here and there. Did what we could until we ended up back here at Belle Fleuve. I’m sure the Lord led us home, ‘cause two months after we came back, Mr. Colin comes ridin’ in ‘bout ready to collapse, and we were here to look after him.”

  “That was a blessing,” Kate agreed.

  “God always sees us through the darkness, Miss Kate. He’ll see you through this.”

  Kate was used to managing everything, pushing and prodding, lifting everyone else’s spirit, fighting to make things right. Now the fight in her was gone.

  “I ho
pe so.”

  “I know so.” When the owl hooted again, Eugenie got to her feet. “You better come on in with me now. It’s gettin’ damp out here.”

  “I’ll be in shortly.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise. Just a few minutes more.”

  As soon as she was alone Kate walked through the darkness to the crypt. Whitewashed plaster was cracked and peeling off the thick walls that were shaped like a miniature domed church. Beneath the cross at the apex, Kate pressed her forehead against the cold metal door.

  She closed her eyes and saw Amelie as a carefree thirteen-year-old, laughing, dancing, smiling.

  “Good-bye, my friend,” she whispered. “Good-bye, Amelie.”

  TWELVE

  Three days after the burial, Kate still hadn’t found the inspiration she needed to begin her assignment for Roger Jamison. With Damian and Marie under Eugenie’s watchful eye, Kate made her way to the main house to find Myra so she could tell her about their finances. Walking along the gallery she heard Colin’s voice coming from one of the back sitting rooms. She paused outside the open French doors and found him inside with Jason Bolton.

  “Kate.” He waved her in. “Join us.”

  Feeling fragile, she had taken great care to avoid him lately.

  “I was just looking for Myra,” she said before greeting Jason and asking after his wife. She had paused in the open doorway. “I’m sorry for the intrusion.”

  “I’d like you to stay,” Colin said, “if you have a minute.”

  She was in no hurry to find Myra so she stepped inside.

  “I wanted to ask you about the crew you hired for repairs,” Colin said. “I’ve offered Jason the foreman’s house where he grew up. It’ll take some fixing, but he’s willing to refurbish it and live there in lieu of pay until we harvest our first crop.”

  She looked at each man in turn. Jason looked fine with his fair hair and eyes, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Colin’s compellingly dark eyes and rugged features. She lost herself in Colin’s intense gaze.

  “What kind of crop?” Kate struggled to focus.

  “Cane. As always,” Colin said.

  Jason interjected, “Cotton is doing just as well, but this land has always produced fine sugarcane and there’s quite a demand since the war. Hopefully it won’t take much to get the old sugarhouse shored up.”

  “So there is a sugarhouse here?” she asked. Dan Rosen had mentioned refurbishing it.

  Colin nodded. “What were you thinking about it?” He indicated Kate should sit.

  She remained standing. “Simon gathered the work crew for me. They did an excellent job.”

  “He’s already assured me he can round up all the field workers we can afford,” Colin addressed Kate and Jason both. “At best it will be a skeleton crew.”

  Jason added, “Since I’ve been back, I’ve met with the other cane planters up and down the road. Unlike cotton farmers, most of them aren’t sharecropping their land yet. The labor demands with cane are too great and the freedmen know it, so they have some bargaining power. Most of the planters have finally reconciled to paying for labor, but it hasn’t come without violence.”

  “I’ll have no violence here. I’ve lived through enough of it to last a lifetime,” Colin insisted.

  “How will you pay them?” Wishing she could help, Kate’s heart sank.

  “We’ll negotiate a fair wage and provide housing. Perhaps even open a store where workers can purchase goods using credit tokens. They’ll be able to borrow against the crop,” Jason explained.

  “I banked my soldier’s pay for the past three years. It’s not much, but it should help get us started. It’s fall now. If we can get the crop in, we’ll be able to harvest the cane a year from now.”

  Now, thanks to Jason’s arrival, there was more than a hint of the man Colin used to be.

  Jason slipped his watch out, opened the lid, and checked the time.

  “I told Cora I wouldn’t be long,” he said, rising. “She’s a bit jittery with the baby on the way. I’d better head back.”

  Colin was slow to his feet but no longer needed help. He grabbed his cane and indicated that Jason and Kate precede him. Kate stepped onto the gallery into a cool breeze that dropped the temperature in the shade.

  She walked to the edge of the gallery with Colin and stood with him in a pool of sunlight until Jason mounted up and rode away. Colin turned to her and asked, “What are you up to this morning?”

  It was hard to concentrate so close to him. “I was looking for Myra. I think she’s in the garden.”

  “She’s out there so often I’m beginning to think she’s searching for Mama’s buried treasure. Damian does nothing else.”

  “Myra loves roses.”

  “And the children?”

  “In the kitchen with Eugenie. She’s teaching them to make hushpuppies.”

  “Hopefully, she’s not serving them for dinner.”

  “I’m sure they’ll turn out just fine.”

  “Obviously, you didn’t taste the grits they made yesterday.”

  Kate hid a smile, tempted to ask if he would join them for supper. He still took his meals alone in the garçonnière but she hoped that soon he’d share them with the children in the main house.

  “How are they getting along?” His concern was written on his face.

  “It’s only been a few days, Colin.”

  “I know exactly how long it’s been. I just wondered what you’ve observed.”

  “Damian spends most of his time in a fantasy world pretending to be a pirate. He nearly gave Myra a heart attack yesterday when he launched himself off the sideboard at her.”

  Colin chuckled. Kate smiled for an instant.

  “Marie isn’t doing as well. She’s naturally shy and can’t express herself, or won’t. I’m going to give her a watercolor lesson later this afternoon. Perhaps she’ll open up and talk to me.”

  “Can you help her much in less than two weeks?”

  Her self-imposed deadline was quickly approaching. Colin was studying her closely.

  “I really need to speak to Myra.” Uncomfortable, Kate started to step off the brick gallery floor onto the drive.

  “Wait.” He caught her arm, forcing her to stop.

  When he lifted his hand and reached toward her cheek, Kate’s breath caught. She watched in silence as he leaned closer. His fingertips grazed her cheek and then he wrapped the escaped tendrils of her hair around his index finger and gently untangled them from the hinge of her glasses.

  “There.” He leaned back. “Now you can be on your way.”

  Kate’s heart was still racing as she rounded the corner of the house and spied Myra kneeling in Marie Delany’s rose garden. Since the burial Myra had spent every spare moment on her knees attacking weeds and turning the earth around the base of the bushes.

  Myra looked up as Kate approached and started to rise. “Are the children finished?”

  Kate shook her head no and waved her back down. She sat on the ground near Myra, carefully tucking her skirt and petticoat around her ankles.

  “You’ll dirty your skirt.” Myra leaned back and wiped her brow with her sleeve.

  Kate smiled. “Always watching out for me,” she noted. “The dirt will shake off. The children are still busy cooking. I’m here because there’s something important we need to discuss.”

  “You sound very serious, Katie Keene.”

  “I am.”

  “I’ve been wantin’ to talk to you too.”

  “Let me start.” Before I lose my nerve. Kate reached for a weed, twisted it, and gave it a tug, then tossed it onto Myra’s pile. “There’s no easy way to say this.”

  “Then out with it.”

  “I met with Dan Rosen in New Orleans, and he warned me that I’ve nearly gone through my inheritance.”

  Myra’s blue eyes widened before she dropped her gaze to the weeds again. “I started worryin’ back when you paid off the back taxes o
n this place. What will you do?”

  “Fortunately, I found work while I was in the city, and I’ve given up our suite at the St. Charles. We’ll find a modest place to live, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to pay you much of a salary, at least not until I’m established.”

  “It won’t be easy for you,” Myra warned. “Dabblin’ in men’s work.”

  Kate didn’t have the energy to argue.

  “I don’t see it as dabbling. If I’m frugal I’ll make enough to support us both.”

  “You don’t need a nanny anymore, Kate.”

  “Of course I don’t, but we’ve been together forever.”

  “Aye.” Myra set down her trowel and rubbed her hands together to dislodge the dirt. “I was only nineteen when the Keenes hired me. Thought I’d be tending to an infant until I found out they adopted a seven-year-old.”

  “If you want to find other employment, I’ll understand.” Kate couldn’t imagine life without Myra O’Hara in it.

  She waited for Myra to agree, but the woman remained silent and picked up the trowel again.

  “I’ve been thinkin’ of the future a lot lately, what with Miss Amelie up and dying so young. I’m near forty now and if I’m ever going to have a life of my own, it’s high time I start goin’ about it. I’ve decided to move back to Ireland.”

  “Ireland?”

  “It’s my home, you know. I still know plenty of folks there.” Myra’s blush gave her away.

  “Is there someone special waiting for you?” Kate clasped her hands together in her lap. “Is that it?”

  Myra studied the basket without looking up. When she finally met Kate’s eyes, hers were aglow.

  “Aye. There is and I turned him down when we left, but he said he’d wait for as long as it took me to change my mind. When we buried Miss Amelie, I decided it’s time to see if he’s still waitin’.”

  “Oh, Myra.” Kate blinked away tears.