Southern Legacy: Completed Version

by Jerri Hines

  “There is no question, for my eyes hold only the love I feel for you,” Wade stated firmly as he took her back into his arms. He tenderly wiped away her tears, so confident…so assured. “I have been frothed with jealousy…besides being a complete ass…but this child is mine.”

  Befuddled, Jo shook her head. “I refuse to play games with you, Wade. You so as much as called me…,” she stuttered over the word, “a…a whore when you discovered I had been with Cullen and now you know for certain the child is yours? I refuse to live this way, Wade, with suspicion upon me and my child. I can’t—”

  Wade leaned over and silenced her with a gentle kiss. “You are my wife. The child is mine…as is his mother. You are coming home with me.”

  He gave her no time to protest as his lips descended upon hers again. Within her the urge to correct him, to tell him he was wrong, emerged, but she hesitated and with hesitation came silent acceptance.

  * * * *

  Rain pounded against the pane of the window. Josephine lay in bed and listened to the wind howl, thankful that Wade had decided to stay at the inn in Orangeburg on their way home to Charleston.

  Since his declaration, Josephine’s heart had warmed toward Wade and she discovered herself falling under the spell he wove around her. He played the gallant husband in front of the Whitneys and waited upon her every need.

  Thanking the family proficiently for taking such care of his bride, he made arrangements for their return to Charleston. He professed his impatience to have Jo by his side, and the couple departed Camden less than a week after his arrival.

  When she said her good-byes, Whitney gave her pause. “Wade is a good man. Don’t hold to the past. Take this moment and move toward the future. May God be with you.”

  She wanted to believe she had a future with Wade, but doubts gnawed at her. There had been no more intimate discussions between them. He had given her time to contemplate his words, but she had only become more confused.

  “You are supposed to be resting. Rosa said you haven’t eaten today.”

  Jo sat up with a smile as Wade entered with a tray of tea and cucumber sandwiches for her dinner. “I’m fine. The queasiness comes and goes. It is to be expected. Truly.”

  “It won’t hurt to take it easy. We are not in a hurry. I want you to take care of yourself.”

  She wondered whether he was remembering Clarissa...that he held fears. “Wade,” she whispered. “Are you scared?”

  As he sat the tray down on the nightstand, he looked at her strangely. “No, should I be? You’re not feeling—”

  “No, no,” she quickly assured him. “It’s only…Wade, I don’t know about any of this…I am…I am scared.” Sudden emotion overcame her. She didn’t know what was wrong with her as a dam of tears streamed down her cheeks. “All you have done, you have done for your family…and now you have me to content with…”

  “Ssh, Jo, I’m afraid I’m not much of a nurse.” He slipped in bed beside her. “What is wrong?”

  “Everything…I have not heard from Gillie. I fear for her. In my sleep, I hear her calling to me. I know she needs me…and I can’t get to her…”

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Jo. You are putting yourself through needless anxiety. Though, I will not make light of her injuries, which were severe,” he said in a solemn voice. “But it is my understanding that Gillie is recovering—slowly. I give you my word it is all that I know. I would imagine that is the reason your Miss Hazel hasn’t returned to Charleston. I know how much you need your mammy, but I would not expect her back in the near future.”

  “I know Gillie has need of her. I worry…that is all. I wish I could see Gillie.”

  “I understand your need, but, I’m afraid, I would insist you not travel in your condition. I assure you I will see to it that all her needs are met.”

  He wrapped his arms about her and kissed the top of her head in a comforting manner. “But allay your fears about Harry Lee. He may live, but your grandfather has banished both your cousins to his plantation in Mississippi. They are not to return.”

  She could not contain the shiver Harry Lee’s name sent through her. “Truly?” she questioned anxiously. “He is not the type who will give up.”

  “Trust me, Jo. It will not be worth his effort. I have made certain of it,” he stated emphatically. “I will protect you. You are safe.”

  Her hands clutched tight to his dampened shirt. “There is more,” she rasped as she choked back her tears. “There is a fear within me for my child. God help me, Wade, I won’t have my babe called a…bastard.”

  He reached down and brought her chin upward so she could see his eyes. “Neither will I, my dear. I told you there is no question.”

  “But—”

  “No question,” he said adamantly. “I love you, Josephine. You are my wife. I will be by your side always. I have much to make up for.” He kissed her gently. “And if I have to spend the rest of my life to convince you of my love, I will.”

  Jo could hear the steady beat of his heart under her ear. She was comforted by his gentle stroking of her hair. Her tears dried, her eyelids drifted closed. When the mattress moved, she was startled. “You are leaving me?” She grasped his hand.

  Wade eased off the bed and gently laid her head on the pillow. “Only so you can sleep. I will make a pallet on the floor.”

  “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Honey, I’m not going anywhere. I will be right beside you.”

  “I don’t want to be alone. I need you, Wade.”

  He gave only a short pause before he eased in beside her. His lips found hers. She responded as her body trembled against him and passion stirred.

  The rain fell in a steady rhythm deep into the night, but in the morning, the sun rose and the birds sang. Josephine woke in the arms of her husband, oddly content. She smiled up at him as he rose from the bed they shared.

  “What a beautiful day.” He leaned back to kiss her. “I’ll see to our breakfast. I find myself quite hungry.”

  Jo watched him leave the room. Wade seemed happy…happy that she had accepted the life he offered and offered no more resistance.

  During the night, she had come to the realization of her need for Wade and she clung to him. Her silence upon the matter of the child had sealed her fate. She chose not to question Wade’s proclamation of love and faithfulness. She accepted all he seemed so willing to give to her now. Wade gave her hope. She was going back to Charleston with her husband and the bright promise of their life before them.

  Chapter Five

  Philadelphia

  The summer found the presidential election on the mind of everyone in Philadelphia. There were a few people with other matters of importance. Insignificant in the eyes of the world perhaps, but within one small apartment, the world the family had known had fallen apart.

  Dreams of a better life…faded, as did his wife. Heyward watched helplessly the small, fragile woman collapse into a world of her own…one that didn’t include him. God, he had tried, but she recoiled at his touch…at his voice.

  Gillie only allowed his mother to care for her. The only name she cried out for was Miss Jo, occasionally recognizing Miss Hazel. It tore at his heart and soul.

  “Ma, what am I to do?”

  “It is not you, son,” Miss Hazel said in a solemn voice. “It is like she has regressed to her childhood.”

  He agreed, having wakened to Gillie’s scream, loud and shrill. Then the sobbing began. It gnawed at him that he could not give her comfort, but watched his mother tend to her.

  “Miss Jo? Where is Miss Jo?” Gillie asked in a timid, frantic voice.

  “I will go and get her. Now, ya just lay yourself down.”

  “Ssh, not so loud,” Gillie whispered in a plea. “Master Buchanan can’t know.”

  “Know what, child?”

  A small smile crossed Gillie’s lips. “Miss Jo. She lets me sleep in her bed. Says she has plenty of room.”

&n
bsp; “I’m sure she does.”

  Gillie lost her smile. Her eyes bulged as terror gripped her. “Miss Jo holds me when I wake. She keeps the dreams from coming. I need her.” She looked around frantically. “Where is Miss Jo? Master Buchanan didn’t find out. Did he? He would whip her for sure.”

  “No, child, all is well. Miss Jo will be back in a minute. You sleep now.”

  Exhausted, Heyward sat down at the table. He swore he had not slept since the night Gillie had been arrested. Nothing had been the same.

  A slight summer breeze moved the curtain. It promised to be a nice, lazy Sunday. Soon, the streets would be filled with churchgoers. Sunday mornings had been Gillie’s favorite. She so enjoyed to socialize at church. He loved how her face lit up talking with her newfound friends… Now he hated Sundays.

  He wanted for her to wake up from the nightmare she was living in and be the Gillie he loved. He hadn’t a clue how to make her better. Where had she gone? Would she ever return?

  Rage shook his core, not at Miss Jo. No, she had sacrificed herself to try to save Gillie. His all-consuming anger was directed at the man who had done this horrific act. A man who gave no thought to a human life. One day…one day he swore he would make Harry Lee pay for the damage he had done.

  While her physical wounds had healed, she was left with terrible scars. All the mirrors in the apartment had been hidden. He couldn’t allow Gillie to see herself. The right side of her face had been sliced; her eye drooped. The nerve had been cut, leaving the cheek sagging. Her beauty left only in an echo of what had been.

  Heywood’s anger roiled. That bastard Harry Lee had cut her breasts. Then he had mutilated her to where she would never be able to have any relations with any man…if she ever wanted to have them again, which he highly doubted. Gillie lived but she was only a shell of the woman she once was.

  “Heyward, I was thinking about Miss Jo.”

  He looked up at his mother, who sat down across from him. “Miss Jo?”

  “Now don’t ca get upset, but I wrote to her and asked her to come. Master Wade answered. He said that Miss Jo has been deeply worried about Gillie, but is unable to come to Philadelphia. I thinks she’s with child. He hasn’t let her know how bad Gillie is, but Master Wade made a suggestion.”

  Heywood’s forehead furrowed. “What kind of suggestion?”

  “I told him that Gillie needs Miss Jo. It’s the only way I see her coming back into the world. You may not like it, but Master Wade offered to take Gillie back to Charleston. He is certain Miss Jo would give her the best care…I would return with her.”

  God, he felt awful. All that the two of them had gone through to leave the South behind! His first instinct was to say an emphatic no…but something in him told him that it would be the best for Gillie. “But that bastard…Harry Lee?”

  “He’s dun gone. Ain’t coming back, Master Wade said. I believe him. I do. Master Wade won’t let nothin’ happen to Miss Jo.”

  Suddenly, an abrupt noise interrupted their conversation. Was it the back door slamming? Heyward rushed up and looked quickly into Gillie’s room—she was gone! Panicked, he ran outside and down the back alley into the street.

  He got there too late…too late to stop his wife from walking blindly into the road…too late to save her from the oncoming carriage that was unable to halt before it swerved into her. But he was there to hear the screams of the onlookers…to see his beloved wife lie motionless on the cold ground…to hold her as she took her last breath.

  Miss Hazel hurried behind her son. She found him with tears streaming unheeded down his face, cradling a lifeless Gillie, barefoot and in only her nightgown. A sad sight…such a sad sight.

  * * * *

  Thick tension cut the air. Cullen held no doubt that changes were coming. He was just concerned whether it would be a change for the better.

  Cullen had finished attending a Republican political rally for Abraham Lincoln and had retired back to his hotel, where he had agreed to meet with his former Navy commander, Charles Davis. His work for Smythe and Company had taken him to Chicago. He had made a brief stay over in Washington before his intended return to Philadelphia.

  Most times, Cullen did not revel in politics. It was nothing more than a necessary evil of expanding his business. No matter the outcome in November, this election would undoubtedly have widespread consequences. It was inevitable.

  The 1860 run for president had come down to four candidates. In the beginning, Cullen believed that the Democratic entrant would have been the Little Giant, Stephen Douglas. Although Douglas held no opposition to slavery, he had not given his support for the expansion of slavery in the West, wanting instead to give the people of those territories the right to choose whether or not to have slaves. It was not enough for those in the South who demanded there not be any limitations to the practice. The South had become radical in their approach to what Lincoln called a peculiar institution.

  The Southern voice accepted only those who supported the spread of slavery. When the Democrats held their convention in Charleston, it was evident the party was divided. After fifty-seven ballots, no solid candidate was endorsed. When they met in Baltimore a month later, Douglas was finally nominated by the Democrats, but not with support of the whole party. The Southern Democrats emerged with a candidate of their own, John Breckinridge.

  As it had been from the beginning of presidential campaigns, Lincoln’s run for the country’s highest office had been conducted from his hometown of Springfield, Illinois. Rallies held in his honor across the country were done so with Republican representatives reading from Lincoln’s published speeches, such as the one that Cullen had just attended.

  Tonight, Cullen listened to Lincoln’s Cooper Union address being read.

  “There is a judgment and a feeling against slavery in this nation… Nor can we justifiably withhold this, on any ground save our conviction that slavery is wrong…Let us have faith that right makes might and in that faith, let us, to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it.”

  Cullen held no doubt of whom he would vote. His vote would be cast for the Republican, but not without reservations. He had been raised in the South. Despite the rage he held toward his Southern family, he understood their concerns.

  But unlike his Southern family, he questioned the South’s claim that their contention was about states’ rights. Although, he conceded that Northerners held a certain superiority toward their Southern brothers.

  But now he comprehended only too well that it wasn’t states’ rights that were the basis of his support to the Republicans, but human rights. He had learned that fact…after what he had seen with his own eyes…what Harry Lee had done to Gillie…

  “Lieutenant Smythe…”

  Cullen stood on the address. Commander Davis, a man of average height, graying hair, and a well-groomed mustache, had arrived as arranged in the lobby of the Willard Hotel. The overly large room exhibited the luxury of the grand establishment, with great columns, huge chandeliers, plush rugs, and high carved ceilings.

  Cullen had chosen the seats in front of the large fireplace to hold the intended conversation. While in service, he would have given his superior a salute. As a civilian, Cullen extended his hand. “Simply Cullen Smythe now, Commander Davis. You forget I resigned my commission over a year ago.” Cullen gestured for the distinguished officer to the seat across from him.

  “I beg to differ. I know well you resigned. It is why I am here.” Commander Davis smiled and sat. “If I have your permission, I will be direct.”

  “It would be best, sir.”

  “I would like for you to reenlist.”

  Baffled, Cullen shook his head. “Commander, in our last correspondence, I politely refused. McFadden and Mitchell’s arguments did not change my mind. I doubt anything you say now will make me feel any different. Why are you being so persistent?”

  Davis laced his hands together and leaned back in his chair. “I believe in being prepared, Smythe. It was
why I asked you to attend the rally tonight. What was your impression?”

  “I found the speech to be insightful, but in honesty, I have already made up my mind who I will cast my vote for.”

  “As has most in the nation,” Davis acknowledged. “Saying that, it is my belief that Lincoln will win every free state. It will be all that will be necessary for Lincoln to become the next president. I ask you, what do you believe will happen when that occurs?”

  Cullen fell silent for a moment. He realized exactly where the commander was headed. It was a thought he had refused to contemplate… The commander, as did he, didn’t feel that the South was making idle threats.

  “Old Abe is not beloved in any of the slave states. I would not be surprised if there is a call for secession, at least by my home state.”

  Davis nodded. “It is my conclusion as well. In this political climate, I believe it would be foolish not to consider that is the option the South will likely take. Even more foolish not to prepare for it.”

  “I don’t disagree, Commander, but I still am confused.”

  “It is not that difficult concept, Smythe.” Davis’s smile faded. “One has to consider that the lines will be drawn. There is a potential of losing a great deal of our Navy officers to the South if that occurs. If it becomes a rebellion, the Navy will be in need of good, qualified officers.”

  A somber, ominous feeling encompassed the air. Cullen sighed. “It saddens me, but while I hold to my country, what you are asking me is to potentially take up arms against my own family.”

  “Look, Smythe, you were one of our finest young officers. Mark my word, you will be needed, especially because you are from South Carolina. You, more than anyone, should understand that they are preparing themselves for a war.”

  Cullen fell silent, his silence acknowledging the truth in Davis’s words. He understood all too well his Southern brothers and the pull of loyalty upon them to their home. He could well imagine the resignations that would follow if the South called upon them.