Cordie nodded. “Tell him I appreciate everything he is doing.”
“I’m sure he knows that,” Aunt Sadie said and stroked Cordie’s hair lightly.
Cordie held up the pictures to show her aunt and break the emotional moment.
“I love them,” Sadie smiled. “Are you quite sure you don’t want to make the room a bit more modern?”
“I’m sure.” Cordie replied. “And please tell me you are not taking that beautiful quilt off the bed.”
Sadie smiled at her niece and put her hands in the air. “I won’t touch it. But please be gentle with it. It’s very old. It was handmade by my grandmother and has been passed down.”
“I will be very careful,” Cordie assured her.
“Well then,” Sadie said, putting the magnolia pictures into their buggy. “I say we check out and go somewhere nice for dinner.”
Cordie looked at the ground unresponsive. Sadie noticed her niece’s reaction immediately.
“Unless you are ready to head back to the house…” Sadie finished.
“I’d like that,” Cordie said. “It’s been a long day to say the least.”
“I understand,” Sadie said. “Would you like me to cook for you?”
Cordie let a slight smile touch her lips. “Since we are in town, is there anywhere around here to get Chinese takeout?”
A giggle escaped Sadie’s lips. “I know just the place.”
After finishing the exact meal that Cordie felt would give her a little comfort, she excused herself to her room for the night.
She propped her new pictures against the wall and pulled the quilt back on her new bed. It was quite warm inside, and she knew she would only be using the sheet. She would definitely miss air conditioning.
She put on her pajamas and brushed her hair. Then her aunt’s words came back to her. The balcony would be perfect. She could cool off and have some time alone with her thoughts.
The door moaned as Cordie opened it. She let her feet fall lightly on the wooden floor as she made her way to a white rocking chair.
She leaned back in the chair and rocked slowly. Her mind flooded with thoughts of her departed parents. Within the next few days, she would be attending their funeral. At least they had planned to be buried in the family plot in Georgia. Cordie was relieved they would be laid to rest close by, and she could visit them.
The reality hit her hard and the tears started to flow. Cordie cried like she had never cried before. Heaving for air, and letting all her sadness flow, she gave into her grief.
Cordie worried that her aunt may hear her from downstairs and didn’t want to upset her, but dismissed the thought. She had to let herself mourn her parents. Surely, her aunt would understand. She just hoped Sadie wouldn’t feel the need to come up and comfort her.
The night air cooled her skin and the sobbing cleansed her soul. She wiped her face and rocked gently, looking out over the stunning plantation and paused, knowing she should rise to the occasion. Her parents would want her to try.
Her eyes were heavy, Cordie let the breeze calm her further. She stood and walked the length of the balcony, looking out over the picturesque land. As she strolled, she saw a young man walking towards the east end of the property. His gait was broad and his posture was perfect. He walked with purpose. She wondered who he was and where he was going.
Once he disappeared from her line of sight, Cordie let her mind rest. Exhausted, she returned to her room. She crawled into her bed and drifted to sleep within minutes.
Chapter Four
A New Day
Cordie rose from her bed, already anxious about her first day of school. It had been only a week since she laid her parents to rest in the family cemetery. She still felt the loss deeply, but had coped well.
Aunt Sadie had insisted she go through a few sessions of grief counseling, which had helped tremendously. Now, it was time to get back to a normal life. Normal. Cordie wasn’t even sure what that looked like anymore.
Choosing her clothes for the day, she headed for the shower. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted up the stairs and made her stomach rumble. She could definitely get used to a home cooked breakfast every morning.
Once she was dressed, Cordie joined her aunt and uncle in the dining room. Ravenous, she piled her plate with the food her aunt had prepared. Cordie was usually so nervous in the mornings that she couldn’t eat. Always worried she was unable to keep up with the latest trend or she would miss the bus, it left her in a constant hurry. Despite being in prep school and wearing a uniform each day, there was always some sort of new trend involving anything from hairstyles to outrageous socks. Activities outside of school were even worse. Wearing the right clothes or following the latest trend was high pressure. In this respect, she was loving her move to Savannah Oaks and not knowing a soul.
Everyone seemed to take their time. People appeared to care genuinely for one another. She didn’t see other kids her age wearing designer brands or binding attire. She saw lots of comfort and cotton and liked what she saw. People were…friendly. It was hard for Cordie to pinpoint, but the ease of the south had put Cordie at ease as well.
By the time breakfast was over, not a speck of food remained on Cordie’s plate. She gave her aunt and uncle both a much-deserved hug before departing. They had done so much for her. She didn’t know how to repay them. But, making an effort at her new school, no matter how impossible it seemed, and trying to acclimate to her new environment would go a long way to make them happy.
“Have a great day!” Sadie called after her as she grabbed her new backpack off the bench.
“I’m going to try my best, Aunt Sadie,” Cordie answered with a smile.
She climbed into the timeworn Ford truck her uncle had permitted her to use and cranked the old engine. The truck roared to life and forced her to giggle. She had been used to having money. Her dad had been very successful in his career, and Cordie knew she would have a brand new car when she graduated. Losing her parents had put those sorts of things in perspective. She was fascinated with her new life and how simple everything could be when she wasn’t worried about who may be looking. She was able to reinvent herself, to be her own person.
A cloud of dust followed her down the long driveway as she made her way to Windsor Forest High. Her short relationship with the truck began to waver as it spat and sputtered all the way to school. It quit at an intersection and although nobody seemed to be upset about it, Cordie’s heart sank. Just moments before she had felt a slight tinge of hope, and it was already wearing thin.
She arrived at school only moments before the first bell rang. She sighed and went to the office instead of her first class. Aunt Sadie and Uncle Jesse had brought her to the school to show her around and a student had already given her the tour. But she needed a few more minutes and this was the perfect excuse.
“Can I help you?” the secretary said with a smile.
“I’m Cordelia. Cordie. I’m new. It’s my first day and I need a copy of my schedule,” she lied.
“Oh my,” the secretary answered. “We usually send those out in advance and set up a tour. I am so sorry.”
Cordie was silent as the secretary pulled up her schedule and printed a new copy. She glanced over it and rolled her eyes when she saw that gym would be her first stop. “Do I really have to take gym? I’m a Senior.”
“You will need to speak to the counselor about that,” the secretary responded cordially.
“Never mind,” Cordie said, taking the slip of paper and leaving the office. She took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to gym class. She crept down the hall to the far double doors and peered out. A nice little courtyard lay on the other side. Cordie looked around to make sure nobody was watching and slipped through the doors without a sound.
Once outside, she let her backpack fall to the ground beside a bench. She plopped down and huffed.
“Hello, fellow class skipper.”
Cordie turned to see a young girl reveal herself fr
om behind a tree. “Hi.”
“I’ve never seen you out here before,” the girl said. “Actually, I have never seen you at all. I thought I knew everyone that went here. I’m Cricket. What’s your name?”
Cordie looked at her. “Cricket?”
“Yeah,” Cricket smiled.
“You’re named after a bug?” Cordie asked, her unhappiness boiling to the top.
Cricket’s face fell. “Hey, I was just trying to be nice. Forget I said anything.”
“No problem,” Cordie spat.
Cricket picked up her messenger bag and went back into the school. Cordie sighed. She knew that was a chance to make a new friend, but she just didn’t care. Her emotions were all over the place the last week. Hopeful to hopeless in a few seconds was status quo.
She sat outside for what seemed like an eternity. When the second bell sounded, she made her way to History class, something she could actually stand. Although she constantly willed herself to be positive and start anew, the tragedy of her life seemed to envelope her when she least expected it. One thing remained. She loved the history behind her new home and the stories Aunt Sadie would tell her. Maybe she could lose herself in the past instead of looking to the future.
Cordie took the only open seat in the room, one that unfortunately sat next to Cricket.
Cricket rolled her eyes as soon as Cordie sat down.
“Look, I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. I just never heard a name like that, and I have a bad habit of blurting out what I think. I’m sorry.”
She really didn’t want to apologize, but it was a new school, in a small town. Cordie remembered her dad making comments about ‘that’s how rumors get started’ when she would tell him about something that happened at prep school. Now she understood why.
“You could have been nicer.”
“I know,” Cordie began, but was interrupted by the teacher.
“If you ladies are finished talking, maybe I can start teaching class.”
“Professor Dutton, he’s such a bore,” Cricket whispered and smiled. “I’ll tell you after class.”
At least I adverted making an enemy, even if she is named after a bug, Cordie thought and smiled.
“Alright, class, yesterday we finished the War of 1812. Today we start a two-month course called Civil War, Civil Liberties. Please open your textbooks to page 212; we will start with the events leading up to the Emancipation Proclamation.”
Cricket groaned and slumped down in her seat. She hated history. It was beyond boring and she couldn’t believe the new girl was actually opening her book and turning to the assignment when no one in the room was doing it.
“What are you doing,” Cricket whispered.
“I like history. Don’t you want to know about the war and how it formed our country?”
“Not really.”
“Well, I do. If I have to live here, then I need to know what happened.”
Cordie gave Professor Dutton her undivided attention for the next hour until the bell rang. She picked up her bag and was headed to the door when Cricket stopped her.
“You really do like history, don’t you?”
“Our country wouldn’t be what it is today without what happened. Aren’t you even a little bit curious, I mean, my family’s home survived Sherman’s March to the Sea. I think I owe it to them to know.”
“Are you sick?” Cricket said, laughing, putting her hand on Cordelia’s forehead. “Those people have been dead over 150 years. You go digging into that stuff and you’ll wake the dead. We don’t disturb the spirits here. It isn’t natural. Besides, that’s what our moms and the Daughters of the South are for.”
Cordie laughed until she realized Cricket was serious.
“Oh,” she whispered.
“Look, I know you are curious, being a Yank and all, but you don’t just go digging into things without the right precautions. Maybe this weekend you can come by my house, and I’ll introduce you to my aunt. She’ll know what to do.”
“Sure,” Cordie said, smiling. “Well, off to my next class…one I hate, namely math.”
Cordie turned and began walking down the hall slightly relieved. What began as a near tragic start to the day had turned into an unprecedented opportunity. She was about to meet someone who could really tell her about Savannah Oaks, the War, and by the sounds of it, knew a little bit about that Old Time Southern Magic.
Chapter Five
Starting Over
As soon as the last bell rang, Cordie was out the door and driving toward the end of town. Her aunt’s home wasn’t exactly in Savannah proper. It actually sat nearly five miles to the north of the city in an area once called Savannah Oaks. She wanted to see what the library had on file about her new home and the plantation down the road from Whispering Oaks.
Cordie was greeted with quick ‘Shh’ from the librarian as she entered and tossed her bookbag on the floor. She shrugged her shoulders and mouthed ‘sorry’ before approaching the front desk.
“Hi, I was hoping you can help me. I am looking for information about the Whispering Oaks Plantation and the abandoned one that sits down the road from it?”
“You mean Schelling House. Let me show you the microfilm room.”
The woman’s nametag read, “Betty Thornebrooke’ as Cordie leaned closer to see her name.
Not exactly friendly… Cordie whispered beneath her breath.
“Come along, I don’t have all day.”
She must be a 100 years old. No wonder she is cranky, Cordie thought.
Cordie slowed her usual, quick gait so she wouldn’t run over Miss Thornebrooke.
“Miss Thornebrooke, do you also have a second to talk about the Civil War in Savannah?”
“You certainly are a curious thing. You must be the Bolivar girl.”
“Yes, ma’am, but how did you know?”
“New travels fast in Savannah Oaks, Miss Bolivar. We don’t get Yankees down here that often, especially ones who are direct descendants of our most prominent families.”
Prominent family? What on earth does she mean? Cordie thought as she looked at the woman.
“Here is the microfilm room. You’ll want to take a look at the reels that start with CWSO as in Civil War Savannah Oaks. Books for our area are on the second level by the back window.”
“Thank you, Miss Thornebrooke.” Cordie smiled, hoping to alleviate the tension. Twice now, she had been called a ‘Yank’. She hoped it wasn’t the start of a nickname she was going to hate.
She sat down at the microfilm machine, turned it on, and then looked for the film.
I’m sorry, Daddy, I never meant to be so busy, Cordie thought.
Tears welled in Cordie’s eyes as she thought about her father, all the times he tried to tell her about their family, and all the times her friends were more important. Eventually, her father gave up trying to tell Cordie about their rich, family history. James Bolivar let the family secrets die with him the moment that plane crashed.
Cordie reached into her bag, searching for the packet of tissues her Aunt Sadie had insisted she take to school.
“Southern ladies don’t let their makeup run when they cry,” she had said with a laugh, hoping to lighten the situation, and knowing her first day was going to be hard enough without bringing up all the emotions she was trying to keep down.
She found the packet of tissues buried at the bottom of her backpack, pulled one out, and dabbed her tears, knowing at least her aunt would be proud. Her attention turned to the first newspaper article that pertained to the war. The heading read ‘ Savannah Oaks Herald, Georgia Secedes, 06 January 1861’.
“This morning, as dictated by Governor Joseph Brown, was announced the right of Georgia to secede from the Union and become part of the Southern Confederate States of America. Our blessed Governor stated, and I quote, “The citizens of Savannah should take up arms and prepare for the advancement of Union Soldiers against this fine land. It is certain our secession shall not be taken lightly.”
“Wow,” Cordie whispered as she continued to read the rest of the article before noticing how late it was. An hour had passed already, and her aunt was more than likely getting worried.
Cordie quickly replaced the reel, grabbed her bag, and headed toward the front door.
“Thank you Miss Thornebrooke. I’ll be back tomorrow to look at the books!” Cordie shouted as she ran out the door into the street. Much to her surprise, her Uncle Jesse who was waiting for her.
“Sadie told me the truck died on you this morning, and that you’d be a bit later than usual coming in,” he smiled. “I’m going to find you something more passable to drive, but in the meantime, we would like to take you to and from school.
“Where’s Aunt Sadie,” she asked while tossing her backpack into the back seat of the car.
“It’s the first Tuesday of the month.”
“Okay,” Cordie replied, wondering what that was supposed to mean.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Cordie. I forget sometimes you didn’t grow up here. The first Tuesday of the month is the Daughters of the South meeting for all the original families.”
“Okay,” Cordie said again, waiting to be enlightened.
“It’s a big deal here, sweetie, kind of like if you were a direct descendant of the Rockefellers or that Carnegie fellow.”
“Oh! Wow,” Cordie exclaimed. “So what do they do at these meetings?”
“Well, now, that is a good question. They are off limits to men so I have no idea. I think it’s just an excuse to play dress up and drink Mint Juleps.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, it’s pretty much an iced glass of Bourbon with crushed mint in it. Oh and it has to be served in a chilled silver cup.”
“Yuck,” Cordie said half under breath.
“Exactly, I have always been a Scotch man myself. So was your father.” Jesse stopped abruptly, afraid even mentioning Cordie’s father might start the tears flowing.
“You can talk about Dad, Uncle Jesse. I promise I won’t cry every time you mention him.”
House at Whispering Oaks Page 2
