T'on Ma

by Magnolia Belle

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Mary answered the knock on the guest quarter's door. Liam pushed his way in.

  "Are the folks up yet?" he asked curtly.

  "I don't know. I don't think so." Mary looked puzzled.

  Liam walked over to their bedroom door. "Time to get up!" Bang! Bang! Bang!

  "What?" Patrick jerked the door open, still in his nightshirt, his hair frazzled. "We're not ready for company."

  "I don't care!" Liam snapped. "This isn't company." Leaning around his father, he called, "Get up, Mother. Now!"

  "How dare you speak to me like that!"

  "I will come in there and drag you out if you're not here in one minute."

  Patrick started to challenge Liam's attitude, but something in his son's eyes stopped him. There was a hardness, a steel he'd never seen before.

  "You'd better come out, Maeve," Patrick advised.

  Within a few minutes, Patrick, Maeve and Mary sat on the sofa, still in their nightclothes and robes. Liam stood over them, the vein in his forehead throbbing.

  "We need to get something straight right now," he began. "I'm sure you two know what Dad and I talked about last night after dinner, so don't pretend you don't."

  Both women looked wide-eyed at him, shocked. He'd never spoken to either of them like this.

  "Lana heard everything you said last night, Dad."

  "Oh, Liam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

  Liam interrupted him. "She is my wife. I love her and I will always love her. She is not one of your high society debutants, for which I am eternally grateful. I can't stand those women! She might not have a high school education or have gone to finishing school, but she is the most intelligent woman I've ever met. And I'm including the two of you in that." He pointed to his mother and sister.

  "You won't find anyone with more heart or courage or love if you looked for a thousand years. And - pardon me for upsetting your delicate sensibilities, Mother - she was a virgin when I took her to bed. I can assure you that she isn't one now. I make love to her every chance I can. There's that much passion between us. Do you remember what that's like, Dad? Passion? Making love to your woman with so much feeling and emotion that you think your chest is going to explode?

  "Liam!" His father tried to stop him.

  "No. I'm not done. That's how I feel about her. That's how much I love her. And if you - any of you - hurt her like that again, you will never see me as long as you live. You will never see our children. You could give me a million dollars, and I would spit on it. Are we clear?"

  When no one spoke, he said, "Good!" He looked each one in the eye. "Now, when you see her today, you'll be civil - without all of these subtle little jabs. She picked up on every one of them yesterday. If you can't be sincerely nice to her, then stay the hell away!"

  "There's no need to be vulgar," his mother fussed at him.

  "No. There isn't. So don't be!" With that, he walked to the door. "I'm on duty all day, but I've told Lana to get me if she needs me. Hopefully, I'll see you all at lunch."

  He closed the door behind him and walked back to his quarters. Lana was up and making coffee.

  "Morning, beautiful," he said, all trace of his earlier anger gone, and then turned her around to kiss her. "Sleep good?"

  "Yep," she smiled. "I always sleep good in your arms."

  He kissed her contentedly once more and then sat at the table. "I talked to my folks."

  "When? This morning?" she asked incredulously.

  "Yep. Got 'em out of bed and everything." He chuckled.

  "They must have really appreciated that," she grinned.

  "Ah, probably not. However, they will be on their best behavior today. You've got nothing to worry about."

  "Oh, Liam, honey." She sat next to him and took his hand. "They can treat me like I'm the Queen of England, but that won't make them like me or accept me."

  "Maybe not, but it will keep them from hurting you. They're just too snobbish for their own good. In time, they'll come around."

  "Let's hope so." She stood up. "What would you like for breakfast? Eggs and toast or oatmeal?"

  "Are you on the menu?" he asked hopefully.

  "Only if you want to be late for work."

  Sighing heavily, he said, "Eggs and toast, then."

  Chapter 37 - Becca

  Liam had been gone over an hour when there was a knock at the door. Lana opened it to discover Toby and Jason standing there, a large trunk between them.

  "The Missus sent us over with this," Toby explained.

  "Please, come in." Lana stepped back and gestured to the living room.

  The two men picked up the trunk and carried it through, setting it with a thud on the floor next to the wall.

  "Becca will be along in a minute to help with that," Toby told her.

  "All right. What is it?"

  "Don't rightly know."

  "Have you had breakfast? Would you like some coffee?"

  Toby and Jason exchanged uneasy glances with each other. To refuse the daughter-in-law of Mr. O'Connell was unthinkable. But to have her serve them breakfast was even more unheard of. Unwittingly, she had put them on the horns of a sticky dilemma and they weren't quite sure how to get out of it. Fortunately, Becca stepped through the open door.

  "Morning, Miss Lana," she called out.

  "Good morning, Becca."

  "What are you still doing here?" Becca turned to the two men. "Shoo. You've got work to do in the stables."

  Looking relieved, they nodded once at Lana and gratefully went to their chores.

  "The Missus wants me to help you unpack this," Becca said as she walked over to the trunk, a large key in her hands. Kneeling, she unlocked it and pushed open the heavy lid. Lana peered over her shoulder, curious about the trunk's contents.

  "What is all this?" Lana asked as she brought a chair over. "Here, sit down."

  Once Becca was seated, she began talking as she pulled out items and unwrapped them.

  "This trunk is full of things Miz O'Connell wanted Liam to have when she heard he was married. It's got china and tablecloths and such like."

  Becca held up the most delicate porcelain teacup Lana had ever seen. It put her mother's Delft pattern to shame - complete and utter shame. The porcelain looked like it was made of pearls, with elegant dark pink roses hand-painted around the border. The rim and handle were trimmed in real gold. Lana was afraid to touch it.

  "I don't know where we're going to put this," she fretted. "I don't have a china cabinet."

  "Oh, don't worry 'bout that," Becca said. "There's one coming."

  "There is?"

  "Yes'm. Being freighted special. Heard tell it was coming through New Orleans by ship." The elderly woman reached in and picked up another item, carefully unwrapping it. "They's sending a big bed and some other furniture, too."

  "Where are we supposed to put all of that in this tiny place?"

  Becca laughed at that. "I don't rightly know. You'll figure it out."

  "Do you drink coffee?" Lana asked.

  "Yes'm."

  "Good. So do I." She went into the kitchen and poured them each a cup. When she handed a cup to Becca, Becca looked up at her in surprise.

  "Why'd you do that?"

  "You were busy," Lana explained.

  Becca shook her head at Lana's foolishness, but took a sip of coffee before she continued working.

  "May I ask you something?" Lana broke their silence.

  "Yes'm."

  "How long have you worked for the O'Connells?"

  "How long? Well, I was born into the house, so I reckon all my life."

  "All your life," Lana repeated as she let that sink in. "So I suppose that's your home."

  "Yes'm. As much as I'll ever have. They could sell me, but I'm too old now. No one would buy an old woman like me." She chuckled at that, but Lana failed to see the humor.

  Becca pulled out a beautiful Irish lace tablecloth and walked over to the kitchen table wit
h it. Spreading it carefully across the table, she nodded. "That looks better."

  It dawned on Lana that Becca was used to having beautiful things surrounding her in the house where she worked. This place must look awful to her.

  "I suppose we seem pretty bleak here at the fort," Lana said as she carried over a beautiful porcelain serving bowl and set it in the middle of the table.

  "Well, just a little."

  "There's not much call for finery out here," Lana explained. "It's all heat and dust and soldiers. Not many womenfolk around."

  "Then the ones that are here need to do better. Keep things civilized."

  Lana rolled her eyes at that.

  The last thing Becca took out of the trunk was a beautiful bedspread. Lana had never seen anything so fine, as used to homemade quilts as she was. The soft baby blue fabric had dozens of satin stripes down its length. Exquisite dark blue and purple flowers with tiny green leaves had been embroidered between the satin stripes. There must have been hundreds of them by Lana's count.

  "Oh, Becca, this is gorgeous!" Lana took it from her and went into the bedroom. Spreading it across the bed, she stood back to look.

  "Now the room looks dingy next to this," she sighed.

  "I'm glad you like that," Becca smiled as she stepped through. "It took me more'n two years to do all that."

  "You made this?"

  "Yes'm. Just finished it right before we was to leave for here."

  Lana took the woman's two arthritic hands in hers and stared at them. "You must have been in so much pain with all of that needlework."

  "Oh, I didn't mind." Becca became embarrassed. "I'd do anything for Master Liam. He's always been my favorite."

  "Mine, too." Lana giggled and then, in a spontaneous gesture, kissed both of Becca's hands. "Thank you so much for this. You are wonderful."

  Becca pulled her hands back and nodded once. "Welcome." She turned to leave the room so that Lana wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. No one - no one white - had ever thanked her for anything in her life. And no one, white or black, had ever called her wonderful.

  With the trunk unpacked and the china put wherever Lana could find a place, Becca walked to the front door. "I'll be right back to start lunch."

  "Lunch? I was going to fix lunch."

  "Oh, no'm." Becca shook her head at that. "The Missus has food brought in that I'm to fix. I'll get it and be right back."

  "All right." Lana certainly didn't want to get in an argument over what to eat for lunch.

  Within fifteen minutes, Becca came in, carrying a few items, with Jason right behind her, carrying a large, overflowing box.

  "My goodness!" Lana exclaimed. "Are we going to feed the whole fort lunch?"

  Jason burst out laughing as he set the box on the kitchen counter.

  "Jason!" Becca shushed him. It didn't do to be too familiar with the owners. The young man shot a nervous look at Becca and then quickly left the room.

  "What all have you brought?" Lana asked as she peeked into the box.

  "Now, Miss Lana, you go on. I'll take care of this."

  "Can I at least sit at the table and watch?"

  "Yes'm. Cain't keep you from your own house, now can I?"

  "I'm not so sure," Lana muttered. There were a whole lot of unwritten rules she seemed to keep tripping over around the O'Connells and their servants.

  When Becca pulled out a pound of yellow squash, Lana stood up. "At least let me do the slicing and chopping," she volunteered. "I can do it so much faster. Plus, I'm getting bored just sitting here."

  Becca studied her for a moment, considering her request. This girl was different than any she had met back home. This one knew how to work and wasn't afraid of it. More than that, she was genuinely kind. Finally nodding, Becca handed the vegetables to Lana, telling her how she needed them cut.

  Between the two of them, they made short work out of preparing the meal.

  "Should we use the china for lunch?" Lana asked. "I don't have enough plates for everyone, otherwise."

  "I think the Missus would like to see that," Becca nodded.

  "All right, then." Lana brought the dishes over while Becca set the table. Lana didn't know where everything went and watched Becca carefully.

  When Liam walked through the door for lunch, he stopped abruptly when he saw the table. The Irish lace lay beneath beautiful, delicate china and crystal wine goblets. The table almost groaned under the weight of smoked ham, fried squash and onions, smoked salmon, hot rolls, sliced tomatoes, fresh cantaloupe, and boiled sweet potatoes. Two pecan pies sat on the kitchen counter, cooling.

  "My, oh, my!" Liam exclaimed as he kissed Lana.

  "You need to kiss Becca," Lana teased. "She did all of this."

  "Oh, go on!" Becca ducked her head and slapped the air at Lana. When she looked up, she told them, "I'll go get your folks and tell them lunch is ready."

  When Becca was gone, Liam turned to Lana. "You mean my parents haven't been by all morning? Or Mary, either?"

  "No. They sent Becca to unpack this huge trunk full of things they want you to have."

  "Oh. I see." Liam scowled at that, but he let it go, preferring to wait and see how things went at lunch.

  Chapter 38 - Little Spitfire

  "Hello, dear," Maeve greeted her son with a kiss on his cheek. Looking beside him at Lana, she smiled. "Hello. I see you got the things we sent. I hope you like them."

  "It is all so wonderful, so beautiful. Thank you very much."

  Maeve nodded and then walked over to the table, inspecting Becca's work. "Hmmm. The tomatoes are sliced thicker than I like."

  Lana was appalled. All of that delicious food on all of that beautiful china, and all Maeve could say was that the tomatoes were sliced too thick!

  "I'm sorry," Lana said. "I sliced those. I didn't realize you liked them thinner."

  "You sliced them? Not Becca?" Maeve frowned at Lana.

  "No. I was bored just sitting there watching her, so I made her let me."

  "I see. Well, no matter. They'll taste just the same anyway."

  While this conversation took place, Mary and her father said hello to Liam. Soon, they all took their seats around the table, eating lunch and being very civil.

  "So, Liam, how long before you get new orders?" Patrick asked.

  "I'm not sure. I expect by this fall, I'll know something."

  "Do you think you'll get assigned back east?"

  "Probably. Once you do a stint west of the Mississippi, they let you come back." His family laughed at that.

  "You know, I've had the most marvelous idea," Maeve said a little too brightly as she smiled at Lana. "When you find out when you'll be transferred, why doesn't Lana come ahead of you and stay with us for a while? You know, until you get settled at your new post? We could show her where you were brought up - take her to the theater - maybe do some shopping. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

  Lana reached for Liam's knee under the table, squeezing it in her panic, while she lamely smiled at her mother-in-law.

  "That sounds wonderful," Mary chimed in. "We could even have a ball to introduce her to all of Liam's friends."

  "Of course! What a great idea," Maeve turned to Liam. "So, what do you think?"

  "I think we need to wait and see where I'm assigned before we make those kind of plans. If I'm not going back east, there's no point in sending her there. But those are good ideas. All of them." He smiled back at his mother and then deliberately changed the subject. "By the way, this food is delicious. Where did you get the fresh vegetables?"

  The conversation turned again to safer waters. When Liam asked what they had done that morning, Patrick told him that he and Maeve had gone for a ride with the colonel several miles away from the fort. Mary shyly told them of her walk along the river with the young officer she had flirted with the night before.

  "I'm glad you're enjoying yourselves," Liam nodded. "There's not a whole lot to keep you entertained out here."

  Lunch passe
d without incident, and Liam excused himself to go back to work. Maeve announced that she needed a nap after such a large meal, so she and her husband went back to their quarters. When they had gone, Lana began clearing the table.

  "What are you doing?" Mary asked. "Becca will do that."

  Lana set the two plates back down and faced Mary. "This is my house, Mary. I'll do whatever I want in it. And that includes clearing the table."

  "I'm sorry," Mary stood up, offended. "I didn't mean that you couldn't if you wanted to. Just that you didn't have to."

  "Actually, Mary, I do 'have' to. Becca is an old woman whose every step is painful, every move of her hands hurts. To watch her work while I'm just sitting there being waited on is more than I can live with. It's too shameful!" Picking up the plates again, she carried them to the counter.

  "Are you saying that I should be ashamed?" Mary sounded defensive.

  "No. I'm not saying anything about you. This is about me, about how I was raised. I do for myself and for those that can't do for themselves. It's just that simple. I'd go crazy being waited on hand and foot. I'm not used to it. I doubt I ever will be. If we're ever going to get along, you're going to have to let me jump up and do things, and I'm going to have to let you sit there and watch."

  "Well, aren't you the little spitfire," Mary laughed to hide her discomfort.

  "More than you know, Mary." Lana carried more dishes over to the counter, wondering how Mary would take the news that Lana had killed Apaches. When she got to the food, Lana asked, "Will you want to take some of this back with you?"

  "What? Oh, no. Just throw it out if you don't want it."

  "Throw it out? Wouldn't Becca and Toby and Jason like this?"