One Last Time

by Denise Daisy

  He moves off the bed. I shut my eyes, not caring to see his private parts. Thankfully, the bed is a high one, and the covers are thrown back in such a manner that it creates a nice barrier between me and his wang wang. He slips on his pants, tucks in his shirt, and with another heavy sigh, begins making his way toward the mirror. My heart is in my throat now, blocking my air passage. I can’t breathe. Quillan squeezes my hand tighter. I appreciate his reassurance, but what excuse can we possibly come up with if Mr. Faulkner sees us?

  He stops at a cherrywood armoire and retrieves a bottle of brandy. After pouring a snifter full, he downs the entire drink. He repeats the action two more times before replacing the bottle. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he faces our direction. I fear he is looking right at me. I hold my breath hoping the shadow we’re hiding in is dark enough to cloak us. If Quillan squeezes my hand any tighter, my fingers will break. Making his way toward the mirror, James Faulkner leans in close, checking his face, rubbing his skin, and scratching at his eyes. With another deep sigh, he places his hands inside his pockets. When he does, I notice something slip from one of them and hit the floor, rolling toward my bare feet. He pauses a moment before heading toward the bedroom door, and then makes his exit, the same way as his mistress.

  I can finally breathe, but there is no time to waste. “Let’s go,” Quillan whispers and begins pulling me toward the mirror. I stoop down long enough to retrieve whatever fell out of James Faulkner’s pocket, feeling with my fingers until I touch a cold round object. I grab it right before Quillan pulls me into the passageway. We try another room. Still not ours, but thank God it’s empty.

  We have two more we can choose from and, fortunately, the next door we try empties us into our private bedchamber. We both breathe a sigh of relief. This intimidating bedroom feels like home. I run for the bed and fall on top of it, allowing the soft mattress to swallow me up. I still have the object Mr. Faulkner dropped on the floor. I open my fist to take a peek. Lying in my palm is his wedding band. Quillan doesn’t see it, so I curl my fist back around the ring and slip James’s promise to forsake all others into the pocket of my dress. The sense of purpose I felt after leaving the runaways upstairs is replaced with bewilderment.

  Quillan turns down the light and climbs up on the bed beside me, suggesting we get some sleep before our four-o’clock appointment upstairs. I agree. I am tired, but I wonder why he’s not saying anything about the torrid affair we walked in on. Then, I remember James is his grandfather. Seeing the man buck naked and being disloyal to his grandmother might be embarrassing for him to discuss. Maybe I should keep quiet about the whole thing, but true to my nature, I have a hard time keeping my thoughts to myself. “What do you think about it?” I ask quietly from my pillow. Quillan rises and turns toward me. The small glow of moonlight masks his beautiful eyes.

  “It disappointed me,” he says softly.

  “I understand.” I give him a sympathetic smile. “When I saw James sitting there, staring into space after his mistress left, I wondered what he was thinking about, and how he could look empty after something like that. I guess it doesn’t mean anything to him. It’s just something to try and fill a void in his life. It made me think of my dad.” Quillan doesn’t say anything, so we both lay there, lost in our thoughts until I decide to break the silence again. “I kind of think the void can only be filled with a purpose. Without it, life is empty.” Quillan takes his fingers and begins combing the curls away from my face. If I wasn’t lying flat, I would have fallen over. My stomach tightens, and my breathing increases while my heart races. I swallow hard, hoping he doesn’t see me getting flustered.

  “Do you have a purpose?” he asks me as his fingers comb through my hair.

  “I didn’t before you brought me here.” My head is dizzy from his touch, and I force myself to stay focused. “I think now I do.”

  “What is it?” His voice is barely a whisper.

  “Helping people, like we did tonight, and making sure you get your chance at life.”

  It’s quiet again, and in the stillness of the room, he leans over me. Taking me completely off guard, he outlines my lips with his thumb. As much as I try to act cool and composed, a small gasp escapes me as his finger traces my jawline and continues down my neck. He hesitates at my dress, stopping at the bodice. I breathe deep, fast breaths. For some reason, I am shivering in spite of the heat. What is he doing? Could he really be attracted to me? I don’t know what to do, so I just lay there while helplessly falling in love. Slipping his hand under me, he lifts me off the pillow, bringing me up against him. He messes my hair, pulling my head back slightly before kissing my neck. I think I might die at any moment and as embarrassing as it is, I begin shaking uncontrollably, passion overtaking all logic. My teeth chatter, and a soft moan escapes as Quillan’s mouth moves up my neck and brushes over my lips. His lips are warm as they overtake mine. You’d think after eighteen years, I would have kissed someone by now. I haven’t, not like this anyway. I’ve never been touched this way before, and I don’t want him to stop, but unfortunately, he does. “I shouldn’t awaken love in you if I am not able to fulfill it.”

  I know what he is referring to, but I’d rather not think about it right now. Despite what I want, he continues with his apology. “I’m sorry.” He pulls away. “It’s not fair. I shouldn’t have done that. I won’t do it again.”

  I sit on the bed, a helpless mess, leaning up against his hard body. I know it’s only been a couple of days, but there’s a closeness to him I can’t logically explain. Maybe it’s because we are both in over our heads, attempting the unfathomable. I want to tell him that I’ve never wanted to be with anyone until I met him. I want to tell him that he is worth the risk and that I give him permission to love me and leave me. But I fear I would begin bawling if I did. “It’s okay.” I give him permission to continue.

  “No it’s not, Averie.” He collapses on his back and turns his gaze to the ceiling. “It’s not all right for either of us. Whether we succeed or whether we fail, we will be separated from each other forever.” I lay there listening to what I already know is true, but hearing him say it somehow makes it much more painful.

  “We have a month.” I surprise myself with my boldness. He closes his eyes and bites down hard, clenching his jaw. The way his facial muscle flexes makes me want to jump on top of him and start kissing him all over again.

  “No.” I hear the remorse in his voice. “I have a month, Averie. You will have a lifetime.” My heart accelerates, and now it’s me up on my elbow staring down at him.

  “What do you mean? I can’t go home? What are you talking about?”

  Rising up to meet me, he calms my anxiousness by stroking my hair again. It works, and I am soothed by his touch. “Averie, when I am born, I will grow up with no memory of you or this time we are sharing. You, however, will travel back to your time and remember everything.”

  Chapter 22

  It’s been a little over a week since I began working for the Underground Railroad. I’ve met cargo in the carriage house three times now. It’s quite fulfilling, even though I don’t do much. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to creep through hidden tunnels and escort people to their rooms. Still, it’s rewarding to see the look on their faces when they enter a room that could rival a presidential suite.

  It’s also been a little over a week since Quillan kissed me. The two of us are growing closer despite our best efforts not to. I can still remember the sensation of his lips on mine. No matter how much time passes, I don’t think I will ever forget the feeling. Unfortunately, that is my curse. Again, I try to push the thought from my mind.

  We have eighteen days left before the fateful hanging of Lunar Wilson. The countdown of both events produces a twisting in my stomach. Things have been going pretty smoothly, so in keeping up with our story, Quillan has secured a piece of land in town, making it appear he is opening up the savings and loan he promised. He had a brilliant idea of enlisti
ng the help of Lunar and the Wilson boys to construct the building. James Faulkner was more than eager to lend Lunar and his brothers out, hoping he would get special privileges once the savings and loan opened. However, we only get their help for a short period of time since harvest of the rice crop begins next week. Having Lunar and his brothers in such close proximity is beneficial, allowing us to have our secret meetings for the Underground Railroad without sneaking off to the rundown shack.

  It’s a beautiful day. The heat has relented some, and the humidity isn’t as high. I am bringing food for Quillan and the boys. It’s nearing lunchtime. Emily insisted on helping, but I know she is coming along to be near Lunar. She hasn’t confessed her love for him to me yet. I am surprised since she and I have become besties. I’m sure going to miss her. Once again, I push reality away, refusing to deal with it. I’m getting good at this.

  Quillan is up on the roof with Lunar when we pull up in the carriage. Both are engrossed in their work so our arrival goes unnoticed. I sit and watch a moment before exiting the carriage. Both guys are shirtless, sweating profusely, and both have their hair pulled back in a ponytail, Lunar with his dreads in tow. Quillan must feel a sense of wonderment working side by side with his father. I’m wondering if Lunar perceives any connection. I glance over at Emily who is taking in the view, as well. A faint smile displays itself in her eyes, trying hard to push through the haunting pain that dilutes her joy. She must detect my gaze because she removes her stare from the boys and casts her eyes on me. For the first time ever, she doesn’t put on her happy mask and act as if everything is hunky-dory. Instead, we sit there and stare at each other, two heartsick women who have love stories we can’t share.

  “Lunch is here!” I yell up to the roof. The hammering stops when Quillan sees me. I notice the sparkle in his eyes when he does. I can’t help but smile as I lift the picnic basket in the air.

  I dole out the sandwiches, forgetting whites don’t serve colored people. The Wilson boys look a bit reluctant at first until I assure them I’ve washed my hands. Jeb is the first to laugh and take the offered food. Besides, no one is paying much attention to what is going on over here, anyway. Emily and Lunar steal glances at each other, and I try not to act like I notice. It’s a funny thing, this life. Time will separate me and Quillan forever, and as tragic as that is, it separates Emily and Lunar, too. Their love is too progressive for the time period in which they were born. Someone somewhere made a rule they can’t be together because their skin color doesn’t match, even though their spirits are the same.

  The men finish their lunch and return to work. Quillan gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek and heads back up the ladder. My stomach drops at the feel of his lips against my face. I know he is only keeping up our pretense, but deep inside, I think he enjoys it.

  Emily and I are leaving when three shifty-looking men approach our small construction site. I can tell by the way they are sizing us up that they’re the kind of men you steer clear of. Their kind are like cockroaches, surviving hundreds of years, never evolving into anything beneficial, just lurking in dark corners, bringing filth and disease whenever they come out of hiding. Two of them are looking up at the roof at Quillan and the boys. Their spokesman is eyeing Emily and me. He has one hand on the brim of his hat, and the other hand grabs his belt buckle.

  “Afternoon, ladies.” He makes a lazy effort to tip his hat. “What’s going on here?”

  I want to ignore him and brush past him like I would do to losers back in my time, but its Emily who stops me before I get the chance. As usual, she displays her perfect manners.

  “It’s a savings and loan. My friend and her husband are the proprietors.”

  Slimy man removes his eyes from Emily and directs his attention to me. “Those your Negroes up there?” I hate the way his question sounds. Before I can come up with a smart-ass answer, Emily replies for me. “Those workers belong to my daddy, James Faulkner. They are on loan for the week.” Even in her most proper exchange, I can hear the shame in her voice as she lays claim to owning any human being, let alone Lunar himself.

  “You’re James Faulkner’s daughter?” Slimy’s lips pull into an impish smirk as if he’s discovered buried treasure. “I guess all those stories about the rice princess are true then.” I do not like the look in Slimy’s eyes. Neither does Quillan because he comes down the ladder and steps between Emily and me. “Something I can help you with?” he asks.

  Slimy spits a pool of tobacco juice on the ground that lands pretty close to Quillan’s boots. I guess all animals mark their territory. I want to say something disparaging, but I’m going to try and let Quillan handle this.

  “Me and my friends here came up outta Georgia. We’ve been hired to capture some runaways and investigate the Underground Railroad. Seems the tracks go right through these parts.”

  Quillan eyes Slimy. “Well, I can’t help you there. I don’t know anything about the Underground. But, if you’re looking for a loan and a good place to save your money, I can help you.”

  “Naw,” he says. “Won’t be needin’ a loan once I catch them runaways. Plantation owners are payin’ me handsomely for each slave I return and for any information I can bring back on that damn railroad.” He turns back to Emily. “Your Negroes ever sing in the rice fields?”

  Emily nods her head slowly, obviously confused at Slimy’s random question.

  “Our Negroes in Georgia sing while they work, too. Or at least used to, till we found out their songs are filled with secret messages. This little song is quite popular down there. I’m wonderin’ if you ever heard it around here.” Slimy clears his throat and sings a haunting tune. “In the dead of night, I saw the light, shining in the shallow water. A princess fair, with crimson hair, hiding us in the house of her father.”

  Now is the time for a disparaging comment, anything to divert Slimy’s attention away from the horror carved into Emily’s face.

  “Don’t quit your day job.” I draw Slimy’s attention back to me. “Sorry, but your singing voice isn’t that great.” Slimy’s friends laugh, but he just stares a hole through me. Meanness must run through the man’s veins.

  “We’re done here.” Quillan’s voice resounds with authority. “We have work to do.”

  Slimy backs off slowly. Tipping his hat at Emily, he walks away, whistling the disturbing tune.

  Lunar is down the ladder as soon as the three from Georgia disappear around the corner. Overcome with fear, Emily casts off all restraint and grabs his arm. “Lunar, you can’t pick up the cargo tonight. None of us can. Those men are going to be watching us close.”

  “But they’re expecting to be met.” Lunar’s concern for his people manifests on his face. “Without us, they’ll get captured for sure.”

  “If they do, they will be returned to their owners, but they will hang you. I couldn’t bare it!”

  So much for their discrete romance. “She’s right,” Quillan interjects. “You can’t take the risk. We can come up with an alternate plan.”

  “Besides,” I add my own two cents’ worth. “Those men will be watching the front of the house. Hang the lantern on the hitching post. It will keep them mesmerized while we sneak in through the back like we always do.”

  Lunar is looking at me like I’m not so crazy anymore, but I can still see reservation in his face. “Who’s going to meet the cargo then?”

  “I will,” I say, feeling like a ventriloquist’s dummy. Who said that? Surely, not me? Quillan appears surprised. “We will,” he adds himself in the mix, and I am thrilled.

  Lunar nods, accepting his protection. “I’ll be watching and have the boys looking out, too, just in case you run into any trouble.”

  With the plan set, the boys head back up to the roof, and Emily and I take our leave. Despite our alternate plan for tonight and possibly the rest of this month, concern still shows in her face. Sighing, she finds an interesting spot on her dress to pick at, her way of dealing with the anxi
ety.

  I wait a minute before driving away in the carriage. “You and Lunar could run off together.” My statement brings her head up instantly. Before she can object, I continue, “You can’t help who you love, Emily.” Color drains from her face at my disclosure.

  “Come on, Emily.” I smile. “It’s pretty obvious, the way you two steal glances at each other, not to mention your extreme care for his well-being.” Of course I am lying. It’s not that obvious. They do a great job of hiding their affection. Still, I cannot disclose how I am privy to inside information.

  “Oh my, I better watch myself. I didn’t know it was obvious. My daddy would hang him from the highest tree if he ever found out.”

  I gulp; if she only knew.

  “Why?” I choke out. “If he loves you, he will understand.”

  “No, he wouldn’t.” Her fiery-red curls shake in objection. “He would be ashamed of me. It would ruin us. We could lose so much.”

  “Lose so much of what?” I ask, hearing the bitterness in my own voice.

  “Daddy would lose his reputation. We would lose friends, business, and people wouldn’t buy our rice. Daddy could lose everything.”

  I shake my head. Some things never change. Every decision is always based on the mighty dollar.

  “On the contrary, think of what you can lose by not admitting it,” I say. “If you shy away from the truth, you could lose Lunar, not to mention the children that would be born to you.”

  She sighs. “I wish it was as easy as you make it sound, but can you imagine bringing children into this situation. It wouldn’t be fair. I think they are better off never being born at all.”

  I want to take her small face in my hands and point it up to Quillan pounding in nails with a hammer. I want to scream in her ear that he’s her unborn son, here fighting for his chance at a life. I want to tell her, if she takes the cowardly way out and ends it all in eighteen days, Quillan will simply disappear, leaving nothing but the lingering shadow of a life that could have been. Instead of piling on guilt, I decide to offer her some hope.