Destiny's Daughter

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  The shadow lengthened, then became the taller figure of a handsome black woman. Annalisa found herself staring at a figure from her long-forgotten past.

  The rainbow-woman pointed a finger. "She asked if I was Sara."

  The black woman’s gaze trailed Annalisa’s trim figure with a professional eye, noting the cut of her clothes, the proud lift of her head. The glance flicked over her tangled curls, then lingered on the amber eyes. Something, some slight flicker of recognition altered the woman’s face.

  "You didn’t come here looking for a job." A statement; not a question. The voice was rich, resonant, like a preacher.

  "No. I came to see my mother. My name is Annalisa Montgomery."

  "My sweet Lord."

  It wasn’t the reaction Annalisa had expected. "Does my mother live here?"

  The woman looked beyond her to the trunk in the carriage. Beside her, the orange-haired woman was studying Annalisa as if seeing a ghost. "Glory be. Our little Annalisa."

  "Go along upstairs, Corinna." The black woman’s tone was commanding.

  The blowzy woman gave Annalisa a smile and wink before turning away.

  "Your letter arrived. We’ve been expecting you." Taking in a deep breath, the black woman called to the driver, "Bring her things. I’ll show you where to put them." Moving aside, she added quietly, "Come inside, child. I’ll take you to your mother."

  Annalisa let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, she had thought this woman would refuse to admit her. In fact, she had the distinct feeling that her presence here was unsettling.

  "I don’t remember your name," Annalisa said. "But I do seem to remember you. Did I know you when I was very young?"

  "You did." The woman paused to allow the driver to enter. Speaking to a girl in an apron, she directed her to show him where to put the trunk. She waited in silence until he had deposited it and left. When they were alone she said softly, "My name is Hattie Lee."

  "Hattie Lee." Annalisa tried out the name, hoping it would fill in the gaps. "Yes. You used to sing to me. And we used to laugh."

  "That we did. You filled this house with laughter and childish shouts. You were a bright, inquisitive child." The honeyed voice lowered on a sigh. "So you’ve come home."

  For the first time, Annalisa smiled. Home. What a lovely word. She nodded. "Yes, Hattie Lee, I’ve come home. And I’m eager to see my mother."

  As she glanced around the beautifully appointed foyer, Hattie Lee touched her arm. "Before we go in to see your mama, there are a few things I want to tell you." Indicating the parlor, she said, "In here."

  Following her, Annalisa gave a smile of approval. The hardwood floor was covered with an ornate Oriental rug. The furniture was plush, and obviously expensive. In the sunlight, crystal and silver gleamed behind the glass doors of hand- carved cabinets. A marble fireplace had been cleaned of winter ashes and filled with flowers and trailing ivy. Their fragrance wafted on the slight breeze coming in from the curtained windows.

  "Sit, child."

  Annalisa chose a Victorian chair of red velvet. Hattie Lee stood with her back to the fireplace. Crossing her arms over her ample bosom, she said, "What do you know of your former life here?"

  "Nothing, I’m afraid. The sisters had no information to give me. But they assured me that my mother was a widow of means who wanted me to be educated."

  "And what do you remember?"

  "Very little." Annalisa smiled. "I remember you. And my mother. And a lot of cousins and aunts." Inhaling the heady scent of French perfume that lingered in the room, she sighed. "It’s so familiar, and yet vague. This wonderful fragrance." Her smile grew. "This room. I wasn’t allowed in here except in the late mornings, while it was being cleaned. Other than that," she shrugged, "not very much. But it will all come back in time."

  The older woman took a deep breath. "When your mama received your letter, she took to her bed. Her health has always been delicate."

  "But she is in no danger?"

  Hattie Lee stared at a spot on the wall above Annalisa’s head. "The doctor is with her now. He’s concerned, child. Your mama is a fragile woman."

  Agitated, Annalisa stood. "I want to see her."

  "In a minute. We’ll wait until the doctor is finished with his examination." The dark eyes pinned her. "I know you think you’ve returned to a simple childhood home. But now that your education is complete, and you are grown, it’s time you knew the truth."

  Annalisa fidgeted. "What is it, Hattie Lee? What are you trying to tell me?"

  A young woman’s head poked around the doorway. "Has Jimmy come down yet?"

  Hattie Lee seemed annoyed by the intrusion. "Not yet."

  Seeing Annalisa, the girl stepped into the parlor. "What’s this? A new cousin?"

  "Annalisa Montgomery," Hattie Lee said, "this is Gabrielle."

  The stunning creature was tall and regal. She wore her lush black hair swept on top of her head, making the creamy column of throat appear even longer. Black eyes were a brilliant contrast to ivory skin. She was wearing a long silk robe of palest pink trimmed with crushed velvet roses. It was obvious that she wore nothing beneath the sheer wrap. Annalisa had never before seen a woman unselfconsciously display her body in such a fashion. She tried not to stare.

  "Montgomery. Is this Sara’s daughter?"

  Annalisa nodded, enjoying the musical Creole voice. "Who is Jimmy?"

  "Dr. James Lynch. He visits our house regularly," the older woman said quickly.

  "To check on my mother?"

  While Gabrielle smiled, Hattie Lee answered, "He sees to the medical needs of everyone in the house."

  "When he comes down, tell him I’m waiting to see him," the beautiful Creole woman said, walking from the room. Beneath the robe, her hips swayed provocatively. At the doorway she turned. "Welcome home, Annalisa. We’ll be seeing each other often."

  When she was gone, Annalisa turned toward the frowning black woman. "Does Gabrielle live here, Hattie Lee?"

  "Yes."

  The girl’s eyes grew dreamy. "I remember a lot of cousins and aunts. Is she related to me?"

  "Child ..." The woman stopped as she heard the footstep on the stairs. Both women turned toward the doorway as a tall, handsome man entered. Though he was probably no more than forty, his hair was completely white. It was a strange contrast to his ruddy complexion and piercing blue eyes.

  Seeing the stranger, he lifted an inquiring eyebrow. Hattie Lee immediately handled the introductions. "Dr. Lynch, this is Annalisa Montgomery, Sara’s daughter."

  He accepted her outstretched hand and studied her for long, silent moments.

  "What’s wrong with my mother, Dr. Lynch?"

  "Her heart, I suspect. Your mother has always been a fragile woman. The slightest exertion seemed to cause her great distress. In recent years, I’ve noticed her frail strength diminish even more." He glanced at the black bag gripped in his left hand. "Some people think I can conjure magic with my medicine." Exhaling softly, he added, "Damnation! At times like this, I wish I could."

  Annalisa held herself very straight, refusing to give in to the icy fingers of fear that gripped her heart. "Are you telling me there is nothing you can do for my mother?"

  "I’ve done all I can, Miss Montgomery. Your mother has fought long and hard against her weak heart. But I can offer you little hope."

  He saw the fear a fraction before little flames of defiance flashed in her eyes. This one, he knew instinctively, was a scrapper. She turned to Hattie Lee. "I wish to see my mother at once."

  The black woman glanced at the doctor, who wearily nodded his head. Resolutely, Hattie Lee lifted her skirts and said, "Follow me." As they began climbing the stairs, she paused and spoke to the doctor. "Gabrielle is waiting for you." Without waiting for his reply, she led Annalisa up the stairs to her mother’s bedroom at the back of the house.

  Pausing outside the closed door, Hattie Lee whispered, "Don’t ask too many questions of her, child. Talking seems to tire her." />
  Annalisa stared at the door, then met Hattie Lee’s sharp gaze. "I’ll be content just to see her. To see if she’s the woman I’ve carried in my memory for so long."

  The black woman opened the door, then took a step back, allowing Annalisa to pass her. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she heard the door close softly behind her.

  Moving quickly across the room, Annalisa stared at the small figure in the bed. Soft brown hair shot with gray had been twisted into one fat braid that fell across her shoulder. The face was a small pale oval, with high cheekbones and perfectly sculpted mouth. The hands resting atop the blanket were small, with long, tapered fingers.

  Perching on the edge of the bed, Annalisa took one of the hands in hers. Cold. Despite the heat of the day, they were so cold.

  Eyelids fluttered, then opened. The eyes staring into hers were cool, pale amber. It was like looking into a mirror. The effect was shocking.

  "Mother." Annalisa tried out the word, wondering how it would feel. It felt wonderful.

  "Annalisa." The lips parted in a smile. Tiny lines appeared at the corners of her eyes as the smile touched all her features, making them animated. "Oh, Annalisa. How beautiful you are."

  "Mama. Oh, Mama." As her arms opened wide, Annalisa fell into her embrace and buried her lips against her mother’s neck.

  "How terrible it’s been without you," the woman murmured, stroking the wild tangle of curls.

  "Then why did you . . . ?" Annalisa bit off the harsh question. It was too soon. Her mother was too weak. They would sort it all out later. Now it was enough to be here, to be holding each other. "I’ve missed you," she whispered, and felt her mother’s wrenching sobs. Stunned at the depth of feeling for this stranger who was her mother, she stroked the pale cheek and fumbled in her pocket for a lace handkerchief to wipe the tears. "Don’t cry, Mama. We’re together now. And nothing will ever separate us again."

  Her mother shuddered and choked back another sob that threatened. Reaching for Annalisa’s hand, she clung to it fiercely, all the while staring at the extraordinarily beautiful young woman who was watching her with such tenderness.

  "Were they good to you in the convent?"

  Annalisa glanced down at their hands intertwined on the pale spread. "Yes. But I missed my home terribly."

  "And we missed you. You were the sunshine, the laughter, the delight of our lives here."

  Annalisa bit her lip, refusing to ask the questions that had been building inside her all those long, lonely days and nights. How could a mother who claimed to love her child send her away? Why would she turn off the sunshine, the laughter, the love? Swallowing back the haunting questions, she said softly, "I met your doctor. He thinks you’re looking better today."

  Cool amber eyes appraised her daughter for a moment. Her voice was barely a sigh. "You don’t lie as well as you used to, Annalisa. I suppose that’s the good sisters’ influence on you."

  A flush stole across the young cheeks. "You have to get well. Mama. We have so much to learn about each other."

  Her mother’s lids fluttered, then blinked open. "I did the best I could, Annalisa. I hope it was enough." Then her lids closed again, casting dark shadows on pale cheeks. With her eyes closed, she whispered, "I have no right to ask for more. My prayers have already been answered. My beautiful daughter has grown up to be a fine lady. And I was given the chance to see her again before I die."

  "Stop that, Mama. You’re not going to die," Annalisa interrupted.

  "But I do need to ask you ..." Sara began.

  "Anything," Annalisa responded before she could finish. At last she would have a chance to be Sara’s daughter.

  "These women, take care of—" Sara licked her dry lips. "My friends . . ."

  A long sigh escaped the lips that seemed to grow waxen as she watched her mother’s eyes close. Bringing a hand to her mother’s cheek, she felt the pasty flesh. Cool. Too cool. There seemed to be no warmth, no life in her. She watched the uneven rise and fall of her mother’s chest. Breathe, she prayed. Breathe for me. Live, she willed. Live so that we can know each other, and make up for all the years apart.

  While the sun climbed high overhead, and the shadows lengthened, Annalisa sat beside her mother, holding her hands, determined to keep her alive.

  At lunchtime, a young serving girl asked if Annalisa would care for a meal. She refused and continued her vigil.

  Throughout the afternoon, the door was opened silently, and just as silently, several beautiful women looked in, smiled gently at the stranger, then tiptoed away, leaving her to her private grief. Though none of the women looked familiar, Annalisa noted their exquisite robes, their quiet camaraderie. Like the sisters in the convent, she thought, feeling oddly comforted and touched by their concern.

  Once, as the bedroom door closed softly, Sara’s lids flickered, then opened. Staring intently at her daughter, she ran a tongue over dry, cracked lips and whispered, "The ledgers ..." Her fingers closed over Annalisa’s arm. "Take care . . ."

  "Hush, Mama. Save your strength. We’ll talk tomorrow."

  The fragile mouth twisted into an imitation of a smile. The eyes closed. Her fingers went slack.

  Annalisa refused dinner, and could hear the occupants of the house moving about the hallway. The air grew heavy with their perfume. The swish of silks and satins could be heard beyond the door. From downstairs, in the grand sitting room, the sounds of music and tinkling crystal filtered up to the silent bedroom but Annalisa took no notice. Shifting to a more comfortable position, Annalisa clung to her mother’s hands, as if convinced that her mother’s life was held in that firm grip.

  In the early evening, Hattie Lee opened the door and held a candle aloft as she crossed the room. In the big feather bed she found the young woman sound asleep, embracing the mother she had so long been denied. Beside her, the figure in her arms no longer breathed, no longer moved, no longer had to endure the pain of a spent heart.

  Chapter Five

  For Annalisa the morning was a blur of tears and pain and a sense of loss that left her numb. The women who had shared this house with her mother wept openly, and spoke in whispers, and offered their sympathy to the young woman who, though a stranger, was now treated like a member of their family.

  All day the maids were kept busy answering the door, accepting the condolences of the businessmen who brought flowers and left their cards in a small silver bowl on an entrance table. Seeing the steady stream of callers, Annalisa was impressed by the position of importance her mother obviously held in the community.

  Dr. Lynch and Hattie Lee planned the funeral, which they insisted had to take place the following day. A traveling preacher was invited to preside over the graveside ceremony.

  Sifting through the calling cards, Annalisa asked, "Why not ask the judge who left his card this morning?"

  Hattie Lee glanced at the doctor before replying. "Justice Cheviot regrets that he will be unable to attend."

  "Then what about the Reverend Sebastian Culpepper?" Annalisa asked, reading the neatly lettered card.

  "Damnation! The Reverend Culpepper has his congregation to think about," Dr. Lynch said quickly.

  "But surely he has time to attend to my mother’s funeral."

  "There are so many duties required of these good gentlemen." Hattie Lee deftly changed the subject. "Have you a proper veil for the funeral?"

  Annalisa shrugged. They were evading her questions. But why? "I hadn’t thought about it."

  "Come, child. I’ll have you fitted for a black gown and veil right now." With a last glance at the doctor, Hattie Lee nudged Annalisa up the stairs. Even in her grief the woman was a whirlwind of nervous energy.

  * * *

  The weather was as somber as the occasion. Oppressive heat seemed to roll in waves, leaving the mourners wilted and lethargic. Black clouds rolled and boiled across the heavens, obliterating the sky. Although it had yet to rain, the air was heavy with moisture. Not a breath of air fanned a leaf or twig. Clothe
s clung damply to clammy flesh.

  Annalisa’s dress was black voile, with a high ruffled neckline and long tapered sleeves. A double layer of black netting fell from the top of her head to below her shoulders, completely veiling her face. She stood at the open grave and wept, grateful that no one could see her trembling lips and reddened eyes.

  The minister spoke about life and death, about the immortal soul and ashes and dust. When he was through, Annalisa found no comfort in his words. He hadn’t known her mother; just as she had not and never would. And although Sara Montgomery’s grave was surrounded by the women who shared her home, few of the townspeople or the important businessmen who had called and left their cards had attended the funeral. The strangers who peered at their small, somber procession seemed more curious than sympathetic.

  In the dreary morning pall, Annalisa watched as the workmen lowered the simple pine box. Lifting a rose to her lips, Annalisa kissed it before she tossed it into the open grave. While the men shoveled, she allowed the tears to flow.

  Oh, Mama. Who were you? And who was my father? Am I like you? Like him? I had so many questions. You’ve died a stranger to me. I’m a stranger to myself.

  She cried for the mother she never knew. She cried for the child who had been so lonely and afraid. And she cried for the fragile flicker of a dream she had kept locked away in her heart; the dream of a future here in this old house with the woman who had sent her away so long ago. That dream had been smothered before it even had a chance to grow. Now there was nothing here for her. She would go back to the convent, where Sister Marie Therese and the others were waiting. Back to the simple cell, the hard bunk, the sound of bells, the life of routine. It was all as she had planned, was it not? She would allow herself no time to think.

  The firm hands of Hattie Lee and Dr. Lynch propelled her away from the grave and to the carriage that took them back home. After a light lunch, Annalisa was ensconced in the sitting room to receive the condolences of still more businessmen who stopped by. Leaving the dark veil firmly in place to hide her tear-stained face, she quietly accepted their condolences and offered her hand to be pressed, or occasionally kissed. When at last she was led to her mother’s room to rest, she could remember none of the names and few of the faces. Too drained even to undress, she fell across the bed and slept until morning.