Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

W hen Tabitha went back into the cabin after scrubbing out their supper bowls on the front porch with a corncob and a bucket of water, Edmond sat in Cyrus’s rush-bottom chair by the fireplace. A matching footstool supported his feet, but judging from the way his jaw tightened when he wasn’t sipping the raspberry leaf infusion Dulcie had made him for his pain, he ought to have returned to his bed. Doubtless, the stubborn man would refuse to do so until they retired to the other room. He’d insisted on remaining with them in the flax field all day—and he would hardly stay seated as he scanned the woods around them with that stoic vigilance of his. Tabitha had held her peace. She had said too much already, and eventually, Dulcie had given up too.

It was not that Tabitha feared his displeasure, not as she had her husband’s. Even in his worst moments of pain and frustration, Edmond had never said the spiteful things to her that Henry had. Indeed, his affirmation after she had botched their morning meal had come so unexpectedly that her defenses had crumbled.

But why had she kissed his hand? Tabitha cringed over that even as she wiped the board clean. Had it really been so long since she had found a man appealing that she had completely lost her senses? She’d made a fool of herself. Perhaps Edmond’s silence now attested to his discomfort in her presence more than his discomfort from a day out of bed.

She needed to set things straight. Let him know she had meant nothing by that impulsive gesture. She might have been vain and foolish once, but she was no fool now. A man of his years would never consider her a catch, not unless he wanted something—like Julian. But Edmond did not want her land. And Tabitha still had her pride.

Dulcie looked up from preparing a fresh pot of corn porridge for tomorrow morning. “Miss Tabitha, you brought your Bible from River’s Bend, did you not?”

Tabitha squeezed her cloth out at the basin. “I did.” It was actually Henry’s big family Bible from England, the names of centuries’ worth of Gages written in the front. How ironic that it should rest in her possession when she had been the one who’d ended their line.

“Might we read a passage tonight before bed?” Dulcie’s eyes glowed in the firelight.

Tabitha glanced at Edmond, who remained facing the flames. Tired as she was, she would not give him the impression she cared nothing for the Holy Scriptures. “I will fetch it.”

She went across the way and dug the Bible from the bottom of her trunk. Its weight reminded her of all the heavy expectations she’d failed to meet. Re-entering the common room, she laid the book on the table. “What shall we read?”

Dulcie cocked her head. “When I was little, Pa would read to us from Psalms.”

Psalms…where was that? It had been a long time since Tabitha read to the slaves on the plantation, and she had mostly flipped about until she found a passage that looked good. Usually something about contentment and hard work that would please Lord Riley should he happen along. Sensing Edmond’s gaze on her back, she turned to him. “Would you like to read?”

He almost dropped his mug. “Me?” His eyes went wide, and he raised his other hand. “No.”

“Please?” Tabitha offered him the Bible.

“A wonderful idea,” Dulcie chimed in. “’Tis something so soothing in a man readin’ God’s Word aloud.”

“I said no. Thank you.” A flush stole upward from his linen stock.

Awareness struck her. “You can read, can you not? ’Tis no shame if you were never taught.” Lots of people were illiterate—just not the men who frequented Tabitha’s former circles, which was why the possibility had not dawned on her earlier.

“Of course, I can read. I attended university.” Challenge flared in his eyes. Setting his mug on the floor, Edmond reached for his crutch. “I think I will sit on the porch for a spell. You go ahead without me.”

Over their protests and Tabitha’s assurance that she did not mind reading, he clumped to the door, which they had left open to the early-spring twilight. After he pulled the door to and his steps retreated across the porch, Tabitha ran her hand over her mouth. She spoke in a low voice to Dulcie. “Perhaps we ask too much of the sergeant. He must feel trapped here.”

A speculative gleam filled Dulcie’s eyes as she gazed after him. “I am not sure that is it. From what I see, he wants to do more, not less.”

“You think he has something against the Bible, then?”

Dulcie gave the mixture in her black pot a quick stir. “When a man run that fast from the readin’ of the Good Book? I can only think maybe he be holdin’ some anger against the author.”

Tabitha sank to the bench with a sigh. She flipped the delicate pages in search of Psalms, but all she could think of was how she had made Edmond uncomfortable yet again. Why was she always demanding too much?

Finally, she found the beginning of the book Dulcie had requested and began to read. “‘Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.’”

When Tabitha paused, Dulcie murmured a soft “amen.” Had Tabitha not been scornful of those who sought to follow God, despite her upbringing in Christ Church? She had thought them too weak to navigate the challenges of life. But look where her attempts to do so in her own strength had landed her, while her sister was ensconced in her comfortable home with Ansel and their babies. Even Dulcie—dirt poor, scorned by whites and blacks alike—had a hardworking man who loved her and obvious peace in the face of prejudice, deprivation, and war.

Tabitha resumed her reading. “‘And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season: his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.’”

Was that why Temperance and Dulcie were so content? God blessed them for their faithfulness? Even as she finished reading the psalm, Tabitha remained fixated on a conviction that she was somehow outside that blessing. But how did she get in? She wanted to prosper. She was more desperate for it now than ever.

When Tabitha closed the Bible, Dulcie rose from situating the porridge in the embers. “Thank you, Miss Tabitha. God’s Word is more filling than the heartiest meal.”

Tabitha nodded. “’Tis the least I can do. Losing your position at River’s Bend, leaving your mother behind, and me moving in here—it cannot be easy for you either.”

A knowing smile flashed across Dulcie’s face. “The way I see it, good is already comin’ out of this.”

“How so?” As far as Tabitha reckoned, they still did not know where their next meal was coming from, much less how to settle her husband’s debt to Hugh Jackson. Not to mention the ongoing threat of invasion from East Florida.

“Look at all you have learned. And how well you take to it.”

Tabitha pressed her hand behind her hip, momentarily easing the ache there. “My back is not taking to it.”

“But every day, you get stronger. You are smart, Miss Tabitha, resourceful. And already, you think of other people more than you ever did before.”

Sudden moisture sprang to Tabitha’s eyes. Once again, this humble mulatto woman’s affirmation pierced her self-protective shell and fed something hungry within. “You and Cyrus still rely on me for income, Dulcie. I am well aware of that.”

“The Good Lord provides what we need, even in hard times. Especially in hard times.” Dulcie untied her apron and hung it on a peg near the sideboard. “And now, I will take myself off to bed. You coming?”

“In a minute. I think I will check on the sergeant first.” Tabitha averted her gaze. Dulcie was right—she was thinking of other people more. But was her concern for Edmond purely altruistic? Or did familiar selfish motives lurk behind it?

No. She could not allow herself to develop feelings for the first man who came into her life after Henry’s death. Had she not learned that only once a man had you did he show his true colors? She had gotten herself into this mess, thinking she could charm and manage her husband, only to have him turn on her when she had not given him what he wanted most. Well, she would not let Henry have the last word, even from the grave. And she would not repeat the mistake of believing she could subdue a man. She had been wrong to show Edmond her emotions earlier.

“Mm-hm.” Dulcie’s murmur challenged Tabitha’s convictions.

“Tis not like that, Dulcie.” Speaking softly, Tabitha led the way to the door. “Soon as he is able to ride and Cyrus returns, Edmond will be gone.”

He sat on the bench on the front porch, his leg extended before him as he gazed toward the sliver of light lingering on the horizon. Dulcie bid them a goodnight before slipping across the dogtrot and into the other side of the cabin, and Tabitha perched onto the seat next to Edmond. For a moment, only the dripping of droplets from the trees and the peep of frogs from the creek broke the silence. Doubtless, he was waiting on her to leave so he could go to bed. She might as well get right to it.

“I know I can be too much.”

“What?” Edmond turned toward her, his tone portraying his confusion.

“Earlier today when I was so stubborn, and again tonight, pushing you to read. I don’t know when to back off. I’ve always been that way.”

He chuckled softly. “I would have called it determined rather than stubborn.”

Tabitha laughed. “A nice way of putting it. But I want you to know, I do not expect anything from you. You have already done enough.” Ultimately, ’twould be a relief to them both to rid him of whatever responsibility he felt toward her. And herself of hope that would never be fulfilled. “But I should explain why I got so…emotional earlier.” She swept her gaze over the floorboards.

“You do not have to do that. The strain you are under would break most women.”

“As generous as that is for you to say, I want to explain.”

“Very well.” Edmond angled his shoulder against the cabin wall behind them and studied her in the dim light.

“The things you were saying…calm down, slow down, quiet down…I could never seem to do those things growing up. I had far too much energy. I always knew my father wanted me to be like my twin sister, Temperance—calm and ladylike and good.” Tabitha placed her hand on the bench between them. “By the way, I understood when you did not want to hear the Scriptures tonight. I have never felt the need for God in my life either.”

Edmond stiffened. “That wasn’t it.”

She drew her hand back into her lap. “Oh, so you are religious?”

“I would not say that. I grew up with faith in God. I just have not seen it do much good in my life.” His voice tightened. Perhaps Dulcie had been right—Edmond held God responsible for some pain he’d experienced. Rather than explain, he relaxed some and prompted her to continue. “Your father did not approve of your spirit?”

“Hardly.” Tabitha wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in the damp air. She gave a small, bitter laugh. “Which is funny considering I got my spirit from him. I suppose he did not find it an appealing quality in a girl. He should have had a son. Maybe that was what I was trying to be…to fill that role.”

“Having a son is not a guarantee a father will be satisfied.” Again, that grim tone. “But go on.”

Tabitha took another breath. “When Temperance and I turned seven, Father got us both ponies for our birthday. We kept them at our plantation south of Savannah. After a month of us taking riding lessons, Father came out from town with his new cotton factor, and we wanted to show them our progress.”

“What was his name? The factor?” Edmond’s sharp inquiry drew a frown from Tabitha.

“I don’t recall.” Why would he interrupt her story for such an unimportant detail? Did he not realize she was laying herself bare? Tabitha hurried on before she could lose her courage. “Anyway…Temperance, of course, kept to walking and trotting her pony as our instructor had directed. But I had to show off. I tried to jump a split-rail fence. I was almost unseated, but I managed to hang on. Not for anything was I going to fall in front of Father. I rode back expecting him to be impressed with my courage. But he snatched me off my pony and switched me in front of his guest.” Tabitha cringed, her chest tightening even at the long-ago memory of her shame. “He told me I was too much to be borne and sent me to my room.”

“Too much…” His words soft, Edmond uncrossed his arms and straightened. “So when I said something that sounded similar to you…”

Tabitha dipped her chin. “I might have overreacted a bit. And then when you said you thought the opposite, that you thought I was brave …” Oh dear. Why did her voice give way like that? She swallowed and looked away.

Edmond nudged her arm. “I meant what I said. Dulcie said it earlier too. You are smart and strong.”

“You heard that?” Tabitha’s face heated even in the semi-dark. What else had he heard?

He gave a nod. “What’s important is that you hear it. Your father was wrong not to prize your spirit. You will need every bit of it to survive out here.”

Warmth flooded Tabitha’s chest. But this time, she would not touch him. Or break down in tears. “Maybe there was something to what she said—about this place bringing out the best in me. Ever since I married, I felt so useless. I tried everything just to keep myself occupied and was good enough at most things—music, gardening, sewing, running the household—but nothing I did mattered. I was marking time. Now when I do something, ’tis for a reason. I have a purpose.”

Each day she awakened, the drive to rise and go about her business had fair stolen her breath. Even back in Savannah, she had never felt that way. She had been a pawn to be used by the men in her life. Now she could set her own path.

“I can see that. Not all women thrive under adversity. ’Tis a trait to be much admired.” The conviction with which Edmond spoke once again hinted at a story beneath the surface. “But your father…did you ever make peace with him?”

She blew out a scornful laugh. “By going along with him, yes. The next time he came, I was as sweet as pie. I begged him to take me riding and promised to do exactly as he said. Finally, he agreed. We left my sister at home.” Tabitha’s chest swelled at the remembered sense of being chosen. Favored. “He even admitted I probably got my risk-taking and sense of adventure from him. But I only maintained his approval by doing what he wanted. Eventually, that meant marrying Lord Riley.”

“And how did he feel about your spirit?” Edmond’s low tone hinted at his caution.

She cut him a sharp glance. “How do you think? He kept me at River’s Bend to ensure I remained in check.”

Edmond sat back and rubbed his chin. “Now I understand why you did not seem devastated by his passing.” He flicked his fingers in her direction. “Forgive me. I should not have said so.”

“Why not? You are right.” And here was her chance to absolve him of any guilt he might harbor about leaving. “Marrying Lord Riley was my decision. My mistake. And now I must correct it. If you see spirit in me still”—she spluttered a laugh—“’tis something of a miracle. But this time, I must right my problems with hard work, not by cunning…or charm…” Not that such manipulations would succeed on a man such as Edmond, even did she remember how to employ them. “Or by putting the burden upon you.”

His hand lowered to his lap, palm up. “You did not put it there. I offered to help carry it, remember?”

“Yes. And you did help by securing this cattle contract.”

“That will not?—”

“It will set us on our feet. What else can you do?”

“Actually, there may be something we can do together, if you’re willing to hear me out.” Edmond sat forward, speaking quickly before she could cut him off again. “I had a lot of time to think today.”

He had been thinking, not brooding? Not trying to avoid her after she’d thrown herself at him? “What were you thinking about?”

“Timber. This land is full of massive yellow pine and cypress. Jack McMullan has a crew of reputable loggers in Darien. If I contact him now, I might persuade him to sign with you to harvest some this fall and float them down to the mill in the winter.”

Tabitha’s eyes widened. She had seen timbermen riding single trees and massive rafts down the Altamaha when water levels were highest, but it had never occurred to her that she might hire loggers to do the same. “Would they take their earnings out of the profit, or would they require some payment up front?”

“I don’t know. I can ask.”

That would only extend her debt to him when she already had enough to repay. “There’s no need. I will talk to Cyrus, and we can look into it.”

“It might be best if I go on your behalf.” Edmond leaned down to massage his leg. How it must be paining him. “And you would likely need more than an introduction, but rather, someone to continue to act as your representative. A manager, as it were. Someone to transact your business and keep your accounts. I served as apprentice in my father’s factor office and excelled there and at university at numbers.”

The mention of his father’s work tickled the edge of Tabitha’s awareness, but she hastened to disabuse him of the notion that she needed an employee. As though she would have a pittance to spare in the near future—much less, enough to compensate a manager. “That is commendable, but I’m not afraid of a little math either. Between Cyrus and me…”

“The thing is, I’m not certain how McMullan would respond to a black man, even if he is free, or…”

“Or a woman?” Her eyebrows shot up.

Straightening, Edmond gave an apologetic chuckle. “Scots can be a bit, well…clannish.”

“And I suppose these McMullans are friends of your mother’s family.”

He shrugged. “Maybe distant kin.”

“Assuming they would work with me and Cyrus”—or they might find someone else who would—“lumbering is an excellent idea. Thank you.”

“It might pay your debt to Jackson, but you will need a steady income after that. I pondered what you said earlier—about a store.”

Tabitha blinked at him a moment. “A store?”

“A mercantile, this side of the river, such as Mary Musgrove ran. But a store rather than a trading post since this is now white man’s land. There isn’t another for miles around. It would not be hard to clear a patch of forest fronting the road and raise a log structure.”

Was he serious? A high-pitched laugh escaped Tabitha. “Perhaps if I had a crew of slaves to command, ’twould not be hard. But Cyrus is not a slave, and he already has his hands full.”

Edmond studied her a moment before he offered quietly, “’Twould be no hardship for me once I am fit.”

“No hardship?” She tossed her hands up. “With your duties at the fort and a war on our doorstep? Even if you could make time, what would be in such an endeavor for you?”

“Keeping your land out of Julian Jackson’s hands would be satisfaction enough.”

She scoffed. “For some business dealing that went awry?” She had not taken Edmond as the type to hold a petty grudge.

“’Twas more than that.” Even in the dim light, the tightening of his jaw was noticeable.

“I’m listening.” Tabitha rested her hands on her knees and angled toward him.

“Talking about the past does not fix it. Taking action does. That is what I’m trying to do.” His rapid-fire sentences made her stiffen.

“I don’t understand. What aren’t you telling me?”

He looked away. “Nothing that bears repeating.”

Her heart shriveled as surely as if he had censured her. She had opened up about her past, but he did not trust her enough to share his, even if it explained his compulsion to help her. Confirmation that she was wise not to rely on him.

“We could discuss a partnership,” he said. “I would consider my help an investment.”

A partnership? She knew how those turned out. The man always had the controlling interest, no matter what the woman brought to the table. “I appreciate your suggestions, but I think it best that I find my own way in this.”

Edmond drew his feet beneath the bench. “Do not allow pride to cloud your common sense, Tabitha. This is a good offer.”

Tabitha stood up, her heart thudding. “’Tis not pride, Sergeant Lassiter. ’Tis self-respect. And if you cannot see that, we have no more to say to each other.”

Edmond rose as she turned and headed for her room in a swirl of petticoats. “Tabitha, hear me out.”

She closed the door on his entreaty—too gruff to be considered a request. Even so, regret flooded her chest. The magnitude of her desire to trust Edmond only served as a reminder that she should not.