The woman’s steadying hand remained on his shoulder. “Are you all right now? If I let go, you won’t fall, will you?”
“He ain’t gonna fall, not so long as I’s got ahold of him.”
The servant released his hand but stood so close he could have leaned against her for support if he was of a mind to. But he wasn’t. Now if that had been Miss Madison. . .
“I’m fine.” He spat out the words a bit harsher than he’d planned.
“If’n you’s so fine, then haul yo’self over to that table and start eatin’.”
He glanced at the servant’s stern glare with his one good eye and couldn’t help smiling. She sure was cocky for a slave, but he liked her for it and for her protectiveness where Miss Madison was concerned. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that, just as soon as my head stops spinning like the wheel of a ship that’s lost its helmsman in a storm.”
Much to his surprise, the woman’s features softened. “You ketch a lot more flies with molasses than you does with vinegar.”
Miss Madison pulled the chair out from under the small table and hurried back to his side. “Do you think you’ve sailed on a ship before? It sure sounds like you know something about them from the analogy you used.”
He stared up at her, searching the shadowy recesses of his mind. Did he know something about ships? If he did, his mind was keeping it a secret. He shrugged one shoulder. “Wish I knew.”
Her bright expression dimmed. He hated disappointing her. “Well, you’ll remember one of these days. I’m certain.”
For now, he’d have to rely on her faith that he’d get better, because he had little of his own.
He stood and was surprised to see that the pain in his side was less severe. The scent of the food drew him to the table. He picked up the plate and stood at the window, shoveling in the delicious meal. He could almost feel the strength returning to his body.
He stared down at the manicured gardens, laden with color. Beyond them stretched a wide green lawn with a creek off to the right and a white gazebo. “You certainly have a nice home here.”
“It’s not actually my home. I live at Madison Gardens, which is the nearest plantation. The Reed family lives here. They’ve been gone for a while but will be returning soon. I’m overseeing the cleanup here. I want to make sure everything is in order when the family comes back. They suffered a tragedy of late.”
He swallowed the bite of biscuit covered in sweet, creamy butter; then he took a swig of his coffee and glanced at her. “I’m sorry.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes sad. He wondered what had happened but didn’t feel it was his place to ask. He scraped the plate and shoved the last bite into his mouth. How long had it been since he’d tasted anything so good? “My compliments to the cook.”
Chesny nodded. “I’ll let Leta know you enjoyed her cookin’.”
“So, where’s this clandestine room?” He didn’t like the idea of hiding, but if keeping his presence secret would ensure the women’s safety, he’d cooperate.
“Downstairs. If you’re ready, we’ll help you.”
“I think I can get there on my own. Just show me the way.”
Chesny picked up the tray of food and carried it toward the door. She shook her head, cast a glance back at him, and he thought he heard her mutter something about stubborn men. Alone again with Miss Madison, he gazed down at her. Wispy curls as golden as corn silk. Deep blue eyes that rivaled the color of the ocean on a sunny day. And skin so creamy that his fingers ached to touch it.
She nibbled on her lower lip in an intriguing manner that stirred his senses. He swallowed hard.
“Are you certain you’re up to walking on your own?”
He was most likely a fool to refuse her assistance, knowing that meant he could put his arm around her and hold her close to his side, but he wanted her to see him as a man and not just her patient. “I’ll be fine.”
“All right, but if you start getting faint, let me know, and I’ll help you.”
He was getting weaker already, but he wasn’t sure if it was from being on his feet so soon after receiving his wounds or because of her nearness. He nodded, pushed away from the wall, and walked across the room. His head swirled, and the doorway blurred into two. He grabbed hold of the door frame to steady himself.
Miss Madison hurried to his side. “Do you need to sit for a moment?”
He shook his head, immediately sorry. Summoning up all the strength left in his body, he held one arm against his side and angled for the stairway across the wide parlor. He made it to the railing and gazed down the cavern of steps. The wide opening darkened then came back into focus. His breakfast threatened to escape from his belly.
Miss Madison stepped to his side. “If you don’t mind, I’d feel better helping you downstairs. Head wounds like yours can cause dizziness, and the last thing you need is to stumble and fall down the stairs.”
As much as he hated admitting it, he needed her help. And since he did, he might as well enjoy the moment. He nodded. She paused and stared up at him, as if unsure now about touching him.
He offered a smile to calm her nerves. “It’s all right. I don’t bite—at least I don’t believe I do.”
She grinned and stepped closer. “I’m glad to know that. I was very worried.”
She placed her arm around his waist and his arm encircled her shoulders, which seemed far too thin to support his weight. He leaned against the stair railing as much as possible, and with her next to him, the journey down was not all unpleasant.
But when she showed him the door to the secret room, he balked. The small, dark opening reminded him of another place he’d been, but he couldn’t quite grab hold of the image in his mind. All he knew was that it wasn’t a good place. And it had rats. He pressed his hand on the door frame and refused to go farther. “I—I can’t go in there.”
Miss Madison gazed up at him, her chin almost resting against his chest. “Why not? It’s just a room. The opening is a bit dark, but there’s a lantern once you get around the corner.”
His whole body trembled. The memory screamed for release, but the door of his mind kept it locked away. Maybe one day soon he’d locate the key. He closed his eyes. If he remained outside of the room and those men came, he—and the women—could get hurt. He was in no shape to protect them, other than to point a flintlock at someone. The best thing he could do was disappear—and going into the room was his only option for the moment. Help me, Lord.
“It’s all right. I’ll stay with you until you’re comfortable. It’s really a nice-sized room.”
He huffed out a laugh. “It’s idiotic, is it not? A man afraid of the dark.”
“No, it’s not.” She tightened her grip around his waist. “You don’t know the source of your fear. I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical reason you don’t want to go in there.”
Perhaps she was right. But even if she was, he needed to conquer his fear and face the room.
A loud pounding on the front door made Miss Madison jump. Her eyes widened. “What if it’s those men?”
He clenched his jaw and stared into the shadows. A ghost of light danced at the edge of the darkness. He would concentrate on that—reaching the light. Forcing one foot forward, he heard quick footsteps behind him.
“Git yo’self in that room and shut the door. I’ll go see who’s making all that ruckus out front.” Chesny scurried behind him and Miss Madison.
With each shaky step he took into the room, the light grew stronger. He turned the corner and discovered a stairway that led down to a room about six feet long and four feet wide. He swallowed back the bile burning his throat. Smaller than he’d hoped for, but at least the bright lantern illuminated the area with flickers of dancing light on the walls and ceiling.
A narrow cot lined one wall. A table holding the lantern and a pitcher of water and two chairs filled the other wall. A shelf on the far end held a half dozen books and some jars of food. He made for the nearest chair and collaps
ed into it. He already missed the warmth of the sun shining in the window.
Miss Madison hurried away and shut the door. He thought she’d locked him in, but then he heard the rustle of her dress, and relief washed over him. He could face this if he wasn’t alone. But he’d been alone for a long while now, hadn’t he?
“Don’t look so glum.” She squeezed past him and sat in the other chair. “Maybe once those men stop by and don’t find you, they’ll move on.”
He shook his head. “We can’t take that chance. I sense they are after me, as you said, but I have no clue as to why.”
He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. Suddenly, it dawned on him that he’d asked God’s help to face his fears. Perhaps God would also heal his mind.
Six
One man held his shoulders while another man kicked him, over and over, yelling something about some papers. The vision of a woman and man, their faces hidden by shadows, floated across the dark chasm of his mind. There was something familiar about them, and he reached out. Just when they drew close enough that he could almost see their faces, they drifted away again.
Food now. A platter heaping with fried chicken glided into the space the couple had vacated. No. Maybe he actually smelled real food. The fogginess of sleep ebbed, but he couldn’t quite tell if he was awake or dreaming. He blinked his heavy eyelids and forced them to stay open. Flickers of light sashayed across the walls and low ceiling. His eyes closed again.
A low, rumbling snarl forced its way into his stupor. Suddenly he jerked wide awake and focused on the teeth of a wolf-like creature, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Ignoring the pain clawing at his chest, he scrambled back against the far wall, distancing himself from the creature’s hair-raising growl. He blinked again. Was this real or just another nightmare?
Someone at the table moved, and he realized Hannah was still there. She set aside something she was stitching and reached out and tapped the dreadful creature on its snout, effectively silencing it.
“I’m sorry that Buster frightened you. He wandered over from Madison Gardens. One of our workers came over to check on us, and I thought it was a good idea for you to meet him with me present. He can be quite nasty if he happens to cross your path and he doesn’t know you.” She reached her hand toward him. “If you feed Buster this bit of meat, he’ll take a shine to you. His bark is much worse than his bite.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment.” He studied the somewhat calmer beast, then glanced back at Hannah’s face. Her warm smile encouraged him. With more than a little trepidation, he took the chunk of chicken from her hand, just as the beast growled again.
“Hush, Buster. This man’s our friend. This is Adam.”
He jerked his gaze back to Miss Madison. “Adam? That’s my name? How did you discover it?”
“I didn’t. I made it up. I decided that we need to have something to call you.” Her cheeks turned deep red in the glow of the lantern, and she shrugged. “Since you’re the first man, except for Israel and Simeon, of course, to come to Reed Springs in ages, and it seems you may have a broken rib or two, I figured it’s a good name for you. You do know the first man mentioned in God’s Holy Book was named Adam, don’t you?”
He nodded his head. The name sounded familiar even though he couldn’t remember the story. “I suppose Adam works all right, at least until I remember my real name.”
Adam pushed against the wall and managed to sit up. “Come here, Buster.” He held the meat out to the beast, wondering if he’d have all his fingers afterward. Based on the stature of the beast standing at the foot of the bed, he felt he had every right to be a bit nervous, but the last thing he wanted was for Hannah to think he was lily-livered.
Adam—the name was growing on him—leaned forward, holding out the meat. The wolf-like animal’s gray-and-black head popped up, and he snarled a low, menacing growl. Adam held his breath while the big dog crept toward him. The vicious-looking snout sniffed his hand. Grayish-black ears twitched forward and back, and beady onyx eyes stared him down. Sweat trickled down Adam’s temple, but he didn’t move an inch. The brute’s wet nose touched his hand, and sharp yellow teeth clicked together as the dog cocked its head and snatched the morsel away. Buster gave Adam a final sniff, turned, and trod back up the steps.
“Guess I passed muster, huh?”
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
He stared at her but didn’t comment. Anything he said would make him sound less masculine.
“Do you feel like eating something yourself?”
He reached up, wiping the drops of sweat from his temple. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his discomfort. “I swear I’ve been dreaming about fried chicken. I can even smell it.”
Hannah’s gentle laughter rippled through the small room. “You’re smelling chicken all right, but it’s soup, not fried. It’s been there on your table for fifteen minutes while I went back upstairs for some blankets. Do you feel like sitting at the table for a while?”
Adam nodded and pushed up from the bed. The simple effort of moving sent daggers of pain radiating throughout his head and chest, but once he was upright, the pain lessened. Leaning back against the wall, he studied Hannah as she scooped up a spoon of soup and held it out to him. His lips tugged into a smile. “If I’d have known I was going to be spoon-fed by such a lovely lady, I’d have stayed abed.”
She smiled and lowered her eyes and the spoon. “My apologies. I don’t want to baby you, but I also don’t want you overdoing things and being sorry later.”
He lowered himself into the chair, taking care to keep his torso rigid. He breathed in the delicious scent of the chicken soup, but it was the bowl that snagged his attention the most. Running his finger around the indigo-and-white, rope-like scroll, he grasped at ethereal memories drifting through the haze of his mind. He picked up the bowl and cocked his head, studying the small red flowers clustered against a bed of green leaves.
Hannah leaned forward. The glow of the lantern was reflected in her blue eyes—eyes as deep a blue as the indigo design on the bowl. “Do you recognize that pattern?”
He scrunched his eyes together, grappling for a hold. The memory was there, but the fingers of his mind couldn’t latch on to it. Sighing, he set the bowl down. “Perhaps.” He flung his hand in the air. “I don’t know. I thought it seemed familiar.”
Hannah reached across the narrow table. “You realize you’ve seen this design somewhere, but just can’t remember where. That tells me the memories are there and will be revealed soon, but you’ve got to allow your wounds time to heal.” She pulled back her hand and touched the plate holding a half dozen slices of bread. “This is an English pattern that’s been in the Reed family for generations. Do you think you might have been in England before?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? I could have been anywhere, for all I know.” Hating the self-pity in his voice, he grabbed a slice of bread and dunked it into the soup. The amazing flavors of the soft bread and salty soup teased his tongue. It had been a long time since he’d eaten food this fresh.
The food was delicious, and he devoured it, but what he enjoyed most was the close-up view of his rescuer. Tight spirals of blond hair hung down the sides of Hannah’s face where they’d pulled loose from her mobcap. Shorter wisps curled across her forehead in an enticing manner. He wanted to reach out and touch one, but he kept his hands flat against the table.
A sudden thought drew his gaze back to the last of his food. Do I have a woman somewhere waiting for me to return?
❧
Hannah sat stiffly in the chair, trying not to stare at her patient. Last night, she had dreamed about him. And today, she kept getting the feeling she’d seen him before. But was that simply because she was getting more familiar with him?
He would be a handsome man when his wounds healed. His injured eye was slightly open today, but it was still purple. The cut on his lip looked better, but more bruises had appeared on his face. He sure d
idn’t complain much. If Michael were in his shoes, he’d be soaking up the pampering and demanding more.
Though she knew little about Adam, she liked him for some reason she couldn’t explain.
Footsteps sounded, and then Chesny stopped on the landing. “That boy down there behavin’ hisself?”
“Yes, ma’am. I am. And thanks for this delicious food. I’m going to be spoiled with all this caring attention I’m getting.” He held up his cup of coffee as if in toast to Chesny.
“Ah, you do go on. If’n you needs mo’ food, I can fetch you some.” Chesny scooted sideways between the table and the cot. She gathered the empty dishes. “You want some mo’ soup?”
Adam leaned back stiffly in the chair and patted his stomach. “No, thank you, but it was most tasty.”
Chesny beamed. “I like a man that know what’s good and is grateful fo’ it.” She trod back up the stairs, humming a tune.
Adam leaned forward. “Why is she leaving us alone?”
Hannah had wondered the same thing. “I don’t know except that she must not see you as a threat any longer.”
“Good.” He tapped the table. “I’m not a danger to any of you. You said this is not your home.” Adam swiped his hand through the air. “So tell me about where you do live. It must be nearby since you can go back and forth daily.”
“It is. Just a little over a mile. I live on a plantation called Madison Gardens with my parents, Richard and Caroline Madison, and my older brother, Michael. We also have a home in Charleston, where my father has an import/export business, although I tend to stay at the plantation far more than I do the town house.”
“Why is that? Seems like a pretty, young woman would want to be closer to her friends and closer to town events like parties and concerts.”
Hannah shook her head. “I’ve always loved living on the estate. Town is noisy and it smells. I do enjoy a party now and then, but not several in a single week like people often have in Charleston.”
He nodded. Hannah wondered if he had been to Charleston and knew what she meant, but she kept quiet. If he didn’t remember, she didn’t want to bring that to mind again. She couldn’t imagine how horrible it must be to not remember your family or friends.
Secrets of the Heart Page 4
