by Jerri Hines
“Patience, my boy,” Cullen said sternly. “I want to reiterate with you our conversation. You remember what I told you.”
Percival pouted. “Not even for tonight? Momma will be lonely.”
“Your mother will be fine,” Cullen said. “Big boys sleep by themselves. Go now. I’m certain your mother is eager to see your sister.”
Jo stared intently at Cullen. How dare he tell her son he could not sleep in her bed! Percival had slept in her bed while they had been in Washington! Cullen had not even discussed his decision with her.
Cullen met her stare. “It is best not to start a habit that will be harder to break later on. He doesn’t need to be babied any longer.”
A protest lay on her lips, but Percival pulled at her hand. “Come on, Momma.”
She could not help but smile at his eagerness and walked into the grand home holding his hand. Jo expected her daughter to greet her, but Madeline was nowhere to be seen.
Monica Smythe greeted the travelers. She had changed little since the last time Jo laid eyes on her. The woman looked exquisite. She wore a dark green gown buttoned up to the collar, which was adorned by a cameo. Her skirt was hooped but dainty, not flaring out as had once been the fashion. Emerald earrings dangled from her ears. Her hair was pulled back fashionably in a net.
Cullen made his way to her side and kissed her gently on each cheek. She embraced him readily enough.
“It is good to have you home, Cullen. You have been sorely missed.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You must tell us all your adventures.”
Jonathan walked over and took his wife’s arm. “Monica, you must not forget our son has a wife now.”
“Of course, I have not forgotten.” Monica turned to face Jo. The warmth in her voice faded to a still coolness. “Josephine, it has been awhile.”
Awkwardly, Jo stood in the middle of the marbled foyer. Forcing a smile, Jo said, “It is nice to see you once more, Mrs. Smythe. You have my heartfelt thanks for the kindness you have extended to my children.”
Monica raked her eyes over Jo. “Percival has been a dear and of course, we were not going to let that poor darling, Madeline, go homeless,” she said haughtily. “While her mother was in—”
“Monica,” Jonathan lightly reprimanded. “Jo has looked so forward to reuniting with her daughter. Let’s not go there.”
Jo felt her chest heave. She comprehended well she had been insulted. Gone was the woman who had only shown her warmth and kindness. That was before Jo had married Cullen’s cousin…before Percival had been born…before the war.
“No, let her finish.” Jo flung her hand derisively. “I was in prison. There is no use denying it.” Her voice rose higher than she intended. Immediately sensing his mother’s distress, Percival pulled at her skirt.
“Momma,” he cried. “What is prison? Is that where they kept us in that cold room without food? Is that where you were? They wouldn’t tell me. Did they hurt you? Why did they…?”
The look exchanged between Cullen and his father did not go unnoticed. Quickly, Jo fell onto her knees. Percival hugged her tightly. “Oh, precious, I’m here now and that’s all that matters,” she said, calmer than she felt. “Why don’t you show me—”
“Why doesn’t Percival tell his grandmother what he did on his trip? What of the ship I took you upon?” Cullen said crisply. His frown was fierce. Not giving his son a chance to respond, he picked up Percival and handed him to his father.
Percival glanced back at her. Jo forced a smile, which dissipated quickly when she faced Cullen.
“I believe we need to talk.” He gripped her arm tightly. Not giving her an option, he dragged her down the hall and into the study. Slamming the door, he released her.
“You hurt me.”
He ignored her. “What was that supposed to mean back there? Why would you say something in front of Percival that would obviously upset him? Don’t you know that he had dreams and nightmares when he first came here? Do you want to bring them back?”
Jo stiffened. Any confusion she held about their marriage was clarified in that moment. Lord, what have I done! He hates me.
She made no response. There was nothing she could say that would soothe his feelings toward her. It hadn’t been her intention to cause her son any anxiety. Holding her aching arm, she walked toward the door.
Cullen would have none of it. He whirled Jo around. “Answer me.”
“Let go of me and never touch me again.” She jerked her arm free and took a step back. “Explain to me why it is acceptable to insult me in front of my son, but not for me to state the truth. Maybe you should have thought this marriage through before you said your vows.
“I warned you that there would be consequences to marrying me. Tell me, Cullen, exactly what do you expect of me? Do you want me to hang my head and speak only when spoken to? I’m not sure I understand your rules.” She swung her head back in a defiant manner. “Where, should I ask, is my room or do I even have a room? Tell me because obviously I’ve missed what my position is in this house!”
His eyes bore into her so intently she feared he could see into her soul. She could take no more. Her emotions were on the verge of unraveling. She had a strong need to see her daughter. Once more, she started toward the door.
“No,” he said.
She paused and glanced back at him.
Cullen shook his head. “No, I don’t expect you to hang your head down. I apologize. This father thing is new to me. I reacted to his needs. I was insensitive to yours. Mother was out of line, but we have to be prepared for such a reaction. It will be worse when we leave this house.”
“You’re wrong.” Jo met his gaze. “It couldn’t be any worse. I see it in your eyes. You’re ashamed of me. You have your son and obviously your father and mother assume he’s yours to only further sully my reputation.”
She reached for the door handle. This time he made no effort to stop her. She wanted him to stop her…tell her he wasn’t ashamed of her…that he would protect her from whatever she faced. He did nothing.
Picking up her skirt, Jo raced up the stairs to find her daughter. In the corridor, she heard giggles and laughter. Slowly, she walked toward the merriment. Halting in the doorway, her heart fluttered at the sight.
The room was bright and airy. Painted pink with white trim, the matching curtains were pulled back, letting in the bright sun. A white crib with pink covers lay against the wall. Toys littered the floor. Two china dolls sat on white bookshelves above a large doll house next to a rocking horse.
Sitting on the floor, Elizabeth played with a toddler with a headful of dark blonde curls. Jo couldn’t take her eyes off her daughter. Tears blurred her vision. She had been so worried about her little one.
Oh, my, how she had grown! She is so lovely! Madeline walked around in a circle, laughing. Elizabeth hid her face behind her hands and said, “Peekaboo.”
Giggling, Madeline’s eyes sparkled; wobbling, she fell back on the floor. Startled, she began to cry. Instinct took over and Jo rushed inside, but Elizabeth was closer. She picked up Madeline and soothed her. Jo’s heart faltered hearing Madeline cry, “Momma, Momma.”
“Now, now, everything is just fine. You silly goose,” Elizabeth said and had Madeline laughing within seconds.
Jo bent down on one knee. “Oh, Madeline! It’s Momma. I’ve come back for you.”
Madeline screamed. Jo wrapped her arms around her; Madeline screamed louder and pushed back frantically against her. Picking her daughter up in her arms, Jo desperately tried to soothe her, but the toddler would have nothing of it. She went limp in Jo’s arms.
“Now, now, Madeline.” Elizabeth pried Madeline out of Jo’s grip. “You are fine.”
Feeling as if her heart had been ripped from her chest, Jo watched her daughter calm in Elizabeth’s embrace. The little one hid her face in Elizabeth’s shoulder and refused to look at her mother.
“I’m sorry, Josephine. Madeline has formed quite an attachment to
me since she arrived. She was so…so sick. I’m sure it will comfort you to know, I didn’t leave her side and have cared for her as if she was my own.”
The softness of her words did little to ease Jo’s frustration. She wanted her daughter back in her arms…she wanted to comfort her daughter. Jo raised her chin, chagrined at the circumstance she now found herself.
“Words cannot fully express my feelings. My children are my life and I am eternally grateful for the wonderful care they have received, but I am their mother. I do know how to take care of my own children.”
“Josephine, this is Mrs. Finnegan. She is Madeline’s nanny.” Elizabeth handed Madeline over to an older woman dressed in a gray gown with a white apron and cap who had hurried into the room.
The heavyset woman smiled tenderly at Madeline, who made no resistance to the exchange. Mrs. Finnegan patted Madeline’s back and asked, “What would you like me to do, Miss Elizabeth? I was under the impression it was going to be a slow introduction back to her mother.”
“I’m her mother. She does not need to be slowly introduced to me!” Jo’s voice rose. “Now hand her to me!”
Mrs. Finnegan looked over to Elizabeth, who gave a small nod, but without another word, left the room more than a little miffed. Jo’s triumph did not last long.
Over the course of the next hour, things went from bad to worse. Madeline stubbornly refused to allow her mother to come near her no matter what Jo tried. Mrs. Finnegan seemed confused on how to handle the situation. Madeline quickly realized that her crying disturbed her mother and screeched louder. Exhausted, Jo sat down, defeated, on the floor.
Mrs. Finnegan walked over and picked up Madeline. “If ya don’t mind me saying so, don’t worry yourself none, Mrs. Montgomery. The little one loves you. I’ve seen it before. She’s mad with ya, that’s all. Mark my word, it will pass and she’ll come around. But it may be best if you gave her a little space and start things first thing in the morning.”
Jo stared at the woman in disbelief. Her own child was mad at her! Madeline acted as if she hated her…hated her for abandoning her. What had she expected? Madeline had been ripped apart from her. What kind of mother was she!
Elizabeth walked back into the room. Looking at Jo with eyes filled with pity, she took Madeline back in her arms. “Again, I apologize, Josephine. Mother and I had discussed the best way to handle your return. It seems it wasn’t communicated to Cullen. This whole scene could have been avoided. Mrs. Finnegan is correct, though. Perhaps it is best we begin again in the morning.”
Jo made no more protests. She rose to her feet and made her way out into the hall. Leaning back against the wall, she clasped her hand over her mouth in dismay, heartbroken.
In the nursery, she heard Elizabeth tell Mrs. Finnegan it was time for Madeline’s nap.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mrs. Finnegan agreed. “Gonna take a good one after that scene. Poor little thing. So confused, probably wondering what is going on. Shame, just when she seems so settled now. Hope Miss Madeline don’t go and get sick again. Wonder if we could talk to the missus and see what we could do.”
Jo’s hand clutched her stomach. They were going to keep her daughter from her? No, no, they couldn’t! She refused to let them. She wiped back tears and straightened her dress. She had to talk with Cullen.
At the foot of the stairs, voices resonated out into the foyer from the parlor, clear and distinct voices.
“You are going to have to do something, Cullen. She is causing a scene upstairs with Madeline. She isn’t a fit mother. The poor child’s scared of her. Does that not tell you something? Oh, why did you have to go and marry her? You could have easily set her up in a small house somewhere and she could have visited the children if she wanted.”
“Mother, don’t! Jo has been through a lot, all of which has been my fault…it’s my responsibility to fix everything.”
“Gibberish! You served your country with honor while…”
“He didn’t have a choice, Monica,” Jonathan said. “We will make the best of it.”
“What do you mean he didn’t have a choice?”
“Mother, if you must know, Hugh was set to marry her if I didn’t. If it wasn’t Hugh, it would have been someone else. Look at her. Some fool would step in to save a damsel in distress. I wasn’t about to let anyone raise…”
Jo heard Cullen’s voice fade off, but his meaning was clear. His son. He was not going to let anyone else raise his son!
“Oh, Cullen, does this not make my point more relevant? What kind of woman is she? One look at the boy and everyone will understand why you had to step in and marry her. Your poor cousin, to be deceived in such a manner! Oh, I don’t know how we are to slant this. Not only did the papers in Philadelphia speculate as to why she married you but everyone in Charleston is questioning her character!”
The papers? She had been in the papers? Oh, Heavens, what had they said about her? The clock struck three. Josephine stared at the door in front of her. She could not stand another minute in this house.
She wanted nothing more than to run blindly out the door, but her children…abruptly she stopped and stared in disbelief. Blinking, she took a second look.
A distinguish black gentleman stood in the hall, dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and black bow tie. He gestured for her to follow him.
Jo hesitated only a moment. Easing down the foyer, she glanced back over her shoulder. No one was around. Turning back to the man, she cried, “Heyward, is it truly you?”
“Yes, Miss Jo,” Heyward answered. Out of nowhere, he asked, “Would you like to go visit Ma…now?”
“Oh, yes, please. I would like that more than anything.”
* * * *
Heyward rode the streetcar on the front platform with the driver. It riled his blood. Colored people weren’t permitted to ride in the car, no matter how well-dressed, how much money they had, or how well-behaved.
He had learned over the last few months to control his temper about such matters. Ma said it would take time to change, but she didn’t understand how it irked him the way white folks looked down on him.
Since his return to Philadelphia, he had become a well-respected member of the community with the help of William Still. Still had helped him invest his money when he had first arrived in this city and had overseen it while he was away working for the Union army.
Mr. Jonathan Smythe had hired him as a clerk, which only served to further his aspirations. He had a son now to look after. He never wanted Tome to ever question his integrity.
His son…Tome. He would admit he had first fought the idea of taking Tome in as his own. He had enough to worry about. Having a family had been the furthest thing from his mind. For the last few years, he had been consumed by his need to expel his helplessness in Gillie’s death. She haunted his dreams…until he saw Tome. He swore he saw Gillie reflected in the young one’s eyes.
Did he believe that it had been Gillie who guided that poor soul to him? Foolish, he supposed. Foolishness he would never admit to. Yet, he took comfort in the thought.
Tome was officially his son. It had been simple enough. He claimed him as his own down at the courthouse when the small family arrived in Philadelphia. With Still’s help in finding a house to buy near his own family, Heyward began to feel a part of the world he now lived.
Moreover, the look on Ma’s face when she saw their new home would be etched in his memory forever. The modest whitewashed house had black shutters, flowerboxes in the windows, and a small wraparound porch. The garden in the back was big enough for Ma to grow her vegetables.
“Lordy! Lordy! Never thought I would live in a place like this. I thought my farm just right for me. I was so proud of it, but this…this is my home…home with my boy. My boy.”
Ma…After all these years…there were no ties that bound them anywhere but to family. He gave all the credit to his mother. She had struggled mightily to keep them together. He didn’t know how she had managed what she had.
When he was sold off to the Montgomerys as a boy, he never thought he would ever see her again.
Life had fallen into a pleasant routine. Ma’s days were occupied with Tome, church, and the garden. She had already made so many friends. The Stills loved her. Many a night, he would come home and find they had guests for dinner. Ma would entertain them by sharing one story or another of her interesting life.
The war still raged in the South, but Heyward had already begun his life anew…until word came about Josephine. Lord, the woman was a thorn in his side! If it was not Gillie running to her beck and call, it was his mother.
Ma’s affection for the lady tore at him. When the news came that Miss Josephine’s children had arrived in Philadelphia without their mother, Ma was taken by surprise. Something wasn’t right and Ma was worried. Miss Jo would never abandon her children willingly.
Heyward knew the lady well enough to discern the truth behind his ma’s words. He also realized that Mr. Cullen wanted Percival out of South Carolina. He had been prepared to slip the child out of Magnolia Bluff if the need arose. It had been part of the mission.
Regardless of his feelings toward Miss Josephine, he had interceded with Mr. Smythe on his mother’s behalf and arranged for Ma to visit Miss Josephine’s children.
Mr. Smythe had kindly allowed a visit to soothe Ma’s fears, but it accomplished nothing, only escalated Ma’s uncertainties. The moment the little boy saw Ma, happiness exuded from his being. He ran up to Ma quick enough and hugged her soundly. The baby had been another issue. The young Miss Elizabeth had refused to let Ma even hold the little one and only allowed her a brief moment to see her, to his mother’s chagrin.
“Lord Almighty, Heyward, did you see that…that youngest lady would have had me thrown out. Won’t let me around Miss Madeline, no matter that young Master Percival leaped into my arms. Acted like I was some type of leper. Don’t like her…not one bit.”
Heyward made no comment. That was the way it was up North. The uppity white folks. Not Mr. Smythe per se, but, definitely, Mrs. Smythe and her daughter, Miss Elizabeth. Neither had any patience for those they thought beneath them and colored people were well beneath them.
