Isabella | Nancy B. Brewer

Isabella

Chapter One

(A book in progress- this book is a project on Facebook – join in on the fun @nancybasingerbrewer- add comments and I will craft the story)

Isabella Henrietta Augustine tied the sash on her skirt a little tighter. She was thin—but not painfully thin. She glanced in the mirror—she was pale, but not painfully pale. In view of all she had been through she was reasonably presentable and by most accounts a beautiful young woman.

After she had arranged her hair, she walked to the window and looked out over the plantation. It was spring, but the fields were bare. She closed her eyes and conjured up the memory of her father calling to the workers and the joyful sound of her mother’s routinely morning piano concert. When she opened her eyes the silence was overwhelming she collapsed to her knees. She was weak, but not painfully weak.

Momma and Daddy were dead, but by God’s grace or God’s curse, typhoid fever had not claimed her life. The disease had selectively chosen its victims among the slaves, too. Now, she was left with many dead and motherless children.

The War Between the States was over, but for Isabella, the war was just beginning. She laid her hands face down on the dusty hardwood floor and pushed up to regain her stance.

She walked across the room and rested her hand on the doorknob. She hesitated, but then recalled her father’s last words, “Isa, Dans ton sang coule la force des rois et le courage de tes ancêtres. Vous survivrez et je vous verrai au paradis.” He did not often speak French, as he said he came to America to be an American. However, during his illness he had often reverted back to his native tongue. Isabella’s puzzled smile clued him that she had not completely understood his words. Gasping for breath, he translated his final words, ” In your blood flows the strength of kings and the courage of your ancestors. You will survive and I will see you in paradise.”

Her hands were trembling when she turned the knob and stepped out into the hall. She walked steadily down the stairs. With erect posture and head held high, she walked out the front door and onto the porch. They were all gathered around on the grounds to meet her.

It was the first time she had been out-of-doors in weeks—it was hot. She walked out to the edge to speak, but her heel caught in the hem of her skirt. She lost her balance and was doomed to fall, but a large black hand reached out and caught her.

Then as if Pappy Earl’s rough and calloused hands were holding a delicate rose, he carefully up-righted her to her feet. When Isabella nodded her head and he was sure she was steady, he stepped back. For a moment their eyes locked, hers of the palest of blue, and his black sparkling in the morning sunlight.

She was sure that her father had confined in Pappy Earl and he must know the reason for her meeting that morning. He and her father had grown up together and they were close as brothers. Pappy Earl was a slave in name only. No one would have stood in his way if he had ever chosen to leave Palmetto Plantation.

“Miss Isa, dar is a mans here to sees yous.” Pappy Earl said pointing toward the barn.

Isabella eyed a tall man leaning against the barn with his arms crossed. She squinted her eyes to see if she recognized his face, which was nearly

hidden underneath a wide brim straw hat. When he saw her looking in his direction, he tipped his head.

Isabella took a deep breath and whispered to Earl, “Yankee Tax Collector?”

“He don’t say, he rode in dis morn sayin he needs to speaks with yous,” Pappy Earl replied. “Dos you wants me to goes with yous?”

“No, it will alright,” she replied, but secretly she felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Her mother had always been her comfort, and her father her guidance, but now it was all up to her.

She held her head down as she crossed the grassy field. Suddenly the words of Psalm 121 comes to her mind: “Where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD. “Yes—yes—yes,” she chanted softly to herself as she neared him.

With her head held high, she could now see the man’s face. Something was strangely familiar about him. She stopped to glance back at Pappy Earl who was watching in anticipation like an old bird dog on point.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard noises coming from the barn, but was relieved to see it was just Benjamin attending the horses.

Mindfully keeping a fair distance from the man she called out, “How can I help you sir?”

Much to her surprise, he began laughing. “My, my, the years sure have been kind to you Miss Isabella, but perhaps not as kind to me,” he said removed his hat, revealing a large scar on the side of the face.

The voice rang in her ears it was familiar, too. In spite of the scar, the man was uncannily handsome. He could see she was searching for words and slowing approached her.

He pulled from his pocket a folded handkerchief, which contained a small tintype photograph. “Here, perhaps this will refresh your memory,” he said, extending it to Isabella. She hesitated to reach for it and he joked, “Go ahead take it. I don’t have the plague.”

Isabella outstretched her hand and took the tintype. One look at the small tintype and she gasped. “Edward Cannon—Eddie?” she asked.

“Sure enough, living and breathing,” he said, flashing her a smile, and edging close enough to kiss her. His face was sterner, harder than she recalled, but there was no forgetting his blue eyes.

Perhaps it was thirst from the heat or the memory of their one and only kiss, but Isabella licked her lips as she stepped back away from him.

“So Edward, might I ask why are you here?” she asked trying to regain her composure.

“Your father wrote me a letter and said you were going to be needing some help. He said he was sick. How is he?” Edward asked.

“He—they—Mother and Father died—typhoid fever,” Isabella answered bravely.

“I am so sorry to hear that news. He was a good man. I suppose he knew…”

“I cannot pay you,” Isabella said sharply.

“Why would I expect you to pay me when I was hired to be caretaker of Palmetto Plantation by your father. Besides he sent me a year’s salary in advance.”

“He did not consult me on such matters,” Isabella said offensively.

“That is not my concern. As I said, he hired me, and I am here to do the job.

“Where do I bunk?” he asked. “I could sure use something to eat and wash up a bit. I’ve been on my horse for five days, and I’m afraid I smell just like him.”

“Wait here,” Isabella said and turned to walk away.

“Hold on!” he called out. “Give me back that tintype, it might be your image, but I consider it my good luck token. I carried it in my pocket the whole of the war. This scar is just a friendly reminder that my life was spared.”

Isabella handed it over and gave no reply. She was not sure if she was thankful she had given it to him or embarrassed for it. She walked back to the porch and spoke with Pappy Earl.

From the distance, he could see the old black man nodding his head. Isabella spoke briefly to the slaves gathered on the lawn, they left and she went inside.

She went directly to the kitchen and spoke to Rosa the cook. “There will be a man in shortly, do your best to feed him,” she said.

Speaking of food reminded her she had not eaten. She grabbed a hot biscuit off a plate and then hurried upstairs to her room.

She was not sure if a gust of wind blew the door shut or she slammed it. It was not fitting to be mad at the dead, but she was for all accounts angry with her father.

Why had he not told her that he had hired Edward? Did her father not trust her to be responsible?

Feeling like a child who had been scolded, she walked over to the rocking chair by the window. Sitting in the chair was the old rag doll that Rosa had made her many years ago. She sat down and clutched the doll to her breast and began to rock madly. She wanted to cry, she wanted answers, but most of all she wanted to be in control of her life.

From the window, she could see Pappy Earl and Edward crossing the lawn. He was taking him to the big cabin next to the house. No one had lived in that cabin since her father fired the thieving superintendent a few years ago.

The men stopped on the porch. Isabella opened her window and leaned back so as not to be seen. She held her breath and strained to hear their conversation.

She could tell by Pappy Earl’s tone of voice he was uneasy about the situation. “I’s remember dem Cannons over yonder way,” Pappy Earl said, nodding his head. “Lordy, Lordy, when the old woman passed, it was no time till the old gentleman was dead, too. Goes that ways sumtimes. “

“I wished I had known my aunt and uncle,” Edward replied. “My father said they were fine folks. When I came here with my father to settle their estate I fell in love with the place. I might have settled down here if the war had not broke out.”

Pappy Earl squinted his eyes. “It’s comin back to me now. Yous stayed here all that summer. I remember Isa must have been bouts 16 … and den yous was gone.”

“Yes—the war,” Edward said. Then as if to change the subject he asked, “So this is my new home?”

“I reckon so,” Pappy Earl responded. He tried to open the door, but it was stuck. He kicked the door open and the two men walked inside.

Isabella pulled the curtain nearly close, leaving it parted just enough to cast a flicker of sunlight on the floor. She slipped off her dress and lay down across the bed. What strength she had mustered up that morning had left her. The doctor said it might take months for her heart to completely recover from the damage of the fever. If she did not have good food, rest, and avoid stressful situations the effects could be permanent.

She laid her head down on her feather pillow and let her eyes settle on a cardinal pecking on the window seal. Her mother had always said that a red bird was a visitor from heaven. She had trusted her mother and her father, but right now she could not believe much of anything.

When she closed her eyes the tears falling from her eyes were as welcoming as the rain from heaven on a midsummer’s night.

Suddenly as if a broken arrow was piercing her heart she felt a sharp pain. She clutched her hands to her chest and prayed. When she was able to breathe freely again, she considered the episode a warning from God. Perhaps he was telling her to be strong and not let old feelings of betrayal consume her.

Father had once said that every woman needed a man to guide her, a house on a hill, and a half-dozen children. But maybe he was wrong when it came to her. She was already twenty and two, and besides, most of the men were gone or married by now.

So much was running through her head. Why had Edward saved that old tintype from six years ago? With his words “It is my good luck token,” echoing in her mind, she at last, fell asleep.

She was awakened suddenly by a knock on the door. She sat up and saw the room had succumbed to the shadows. How long had she been asleep?

She slipped on her robe and went to the door. It was Rosa. “Comes on down to supper dear. The gentleman is a asking for yous.”

Isabella dressed and vowed she would not fall victim of Edward’s charms again. If her father had paid him to be the caretaker, then let him work off his pay. But a rover like him would never be anything but a hired hand to her.

Slowly she made her way down the stairs. In the foyer, she saw Edward sipping a glass of her father’s brandy and talking to Pappy Earl.

Pappy Earl looked up at her as she approached. “Fresh air—I sho needs some fresh air,” he said, and then he darted out the front door.

Edward smiled at her, “Hope you don’t mind me having a drink. A man gets mighty thirsty overseeing,” he said laughing.

“No, help yourself,” she lied.

“Your cook sat a plate for me at the table,” he said looking into the dining room. “I believe it will be just you and me.”

“I suppose so,” Isabella replied, as she rushed past him to go to the table.

Rosa served fried chicken, but she could barely eat. A large knot in her stomach grew as Edward told her of his plans for the plantation.

“This place is a mess—nearly in ruins,” he said. “You’ve got to start producing a cash crop or you are not going to survive. I have surveyed it all carefully and I think I can pull us… well, you… out of the swamps. “

After dinner, they had tea on the porch and for nearly two hours Isabella listened to his arrogant schemes or were they scams. Was this truly the man she had fallen in love with? She was just a girl then, but now she is a woman and far wiser.

Only a fool could not sense Isabella’s angered pride. Edward came there with anticipation, but not that she would be resentful of his help. He was debating telling her that he had written to her father first to inquire about her. When her father wrote back that he was sick, he volunteered to come help. Her father had accepted his offer, but only if he would accept a year’s salary in advance.

Edward rose from his chair and slowly approached Isabella, “Bella—the truth is…” he began, but was quickly interrupted by her sudden action.

She jumped out of her chair, leaving the rockers in motion, spinning on her heels she headed toward the front door.

“Wait,” he called out.

She did not look back and tossed, “good night sir,” over her shoulder.

Chapter Two

After dismissing herself last night she went straight to her room. She at once began unbuttoning her bodice hoping to relieve the tightness in her chest. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire. Wearing only the moonlight she stood by the window allowing the fresh air to reach across her bare skin.

When she had cooled she climbed into bed, but even the soft cotton sheets hurt her skin. She considered her condition due to what had happened on the porch. She was plagued by fresh mosquito bites and worried just how Edward thought she could pay for all his plans.

She found solace in her thoughts and prayers. Typically an estate was left to a son, but she was an only child. Society might not approve, but she was the sole heir of the plantation. Her father had hired Edward, but in reality, he worked for her. She knew she held the purse strings, but the weight of her purse would not even sink a rowboat.

She would take care to gain her strength back and make her father proud. Somehow she would keep the plantation running. The war had freed the slaves, but they still were dependent upon her. Like her father always said: “If you have land—you will survive.”

As for Edward, she would keep a close eye on him at all times. If he thought he could just come there and take over he was in for a big surprise.

Isabella had stayed current and she had talked to some of the other plantation owners. Many of them were entertaining the idea of deeding acreage to the ex-slaves in exchange for their work. She might consider the same. One thing Edward was right about was the land needed to produce a cash crop.

At last, she fell asleep hoping tomorrow would be a better day; at least it would not be so full of surprises.

When she awoke the next morning the sun was high. Questioning why Rosa had not woke her, she got dressed, stepped out in the hall, and closed the door behind her.

Just as she reached the top of the stairs she saw the front door standing open, and could hear Pappy Earl calling out frantically for help.

She rushed downstairs finding Pappy Earl standing over Edward, still as death, lying on the porch floor.

“What happened?” she screamed out, dropping to her knees beside them.

Pappy Earl tried to answer, “I sho don’t know. He was just,” but before he could complete his sentence—Edward started to groan and began trying to sit up.”

For a few seconds, Edward’s eyes were fixed and seemed to pierce right through her.

Slowly his eyes began to regain their luster and in a soft voice he joked, “Sorry about that, the sight of a beautiful woman always knocks me off my feet.”

He began trying to stand, he lost his balance and Pappy Earl helped him to his feet. “Here son yous best have a seat. Yous hit the floor like a sack of feed.”

“I will be alright in a few,” Edward said, sitting down in the chair. “I guess it ain’t no deep dark secret, I have not been worth a damn since the war. I shouldn’t just stayed back in North Carolina. I was just hoping,” he started, but then he dropped his head in his hands.

Isabella turned to Pappy Earl, “Go tell Rosa we need some water.”

“Do you want to tell me about it,” she asked, feeling a rush of compassion fluttering in her chest like a thousand butterflies.

“Not much to tell. I ran up on a Yankee boy on the battlefield. In the fight, he sliced open my face. When I dropped, I suppose he did not have the nerve to run me through, so he knocked me out with the handle of his sword. Doctor’s say it jarred my brain.”

“So you have fainting spells?” Isabella asked.

“Something like that,” he answered. “Might get better as time goes by. Who the hell knows? You see that is why I didn’t get back here right after the war.”

Isabelle placed her hand on her heart. “These have been hard years on all us. We just have to be thankful for what we have.”

“Dear Isa, I wanted to come back, but what good is a broken man to a woman or good to anyone for that matter?”

“Or a broken woman?” Isabella asked. “The doctor says I will never be able to have children,” she said as tears filled her eyes.

“Well, puppies are nice. I’d like to have a whole pile of them,” Edward said, trying to smile.

“Me too,” Isabella responded, wishing she could gather him in her and arms and kiss him.

Their near romantic moment came to a halt when Pappy Earl came back carrying a jug of water. “Here drink this up, Rosa done and put something in there to zest you ups a bit.”

Edward reached out for the jug, “So, what’s in this Pappy?” he asked.

“My Rosa ain’t abouts to tell what she puts in her potions. Just trust it is good medicine. One time an old mule kicked me in the head, and I had them fallen out spells, too. Rosa gave me some mojo and I’ve been steady ever since.

“Worth a try,” Edward said. After he downed the jug, he winked at Isabella and jumped to his feet. “See it is working already.”

“Edward,” Isabella cautioned. “Maybe you should lay down or get something to eat, before going out in the heat.”

“Nope, once it’s over its over. I will be fine now,” Edward said.

“Tills the next time,” Pappy Earl called out. “I telling you best be talkin to my Rosa.”

What Edward wanted most at that moment was to get back to work. “I will,” he called back on his way to the barn. Strangely enough, he did feel better after Rosa’s potion, or perhaps it was the spark of hope that Isabella might care about him.

“Hold up, I wills tag along to keeps yous company,” Pappy Earl, said hustling out to join him.

Isabella watched the two men and could faintly hear them talking. But shortly she disconnected and was lost in worrisome thoughts.

Suddenly she was brought back to consciousness when Rosa called her name. “Isa—Isabella—has you forgotten Cousin Betsy and her husband is comin to call this afternoon?”

How had she forgotten about the visit? She had been dreading it for weeks. Cousin Betsy was a raven beauty with black hair and ivory skin. The trouble was she knew it. In spite of her charms, she was jealous and spoiled. She enjoyed playing with people’s emotions and breaking young men’s hearts.

Isabella had witnessed the depth of her cousin’s spitefulness first-hand several years ago. Betsy had just returned home from the College of Charleston, after keeping her fiancé’, Byron Aston Wilcoats, waiting for two years.

Even Isabella’s mother had shared a word or two about Betsy’s nature. She claimed Betsy had kept Mr. Wilcoats on hold because of his family’s money. She predicted if Betsy found someone she thought better, she would drop Bryon like a rock. As it turned out she was right.

Betsy’s homecoming was arranged in time for her sister’s spring wedding. She came to the wedding in grand style on Mr. Wilcoats’ arm but spent most of the night shameless flirting with every man in sight.

After the wedding festival, Betsy teased Isabella about not having a beau. Her words still rang in her ears: “After a cold and lonely winter, it is just natural for a girl to want to flirt a bit. Surely dear cousin, there had to be some fellow you fancied?”

Isabella felt cornered and divulged that there was one gentleman, named Trenton, that she had some interest. Isabella went on to explain that Trenton seemed older and more reserved than the other single men. She was hoping her father would introduce them at the next social.

At the next social Trenton was there. However, Isabella’s father never gained the opportunity to introduce his daughter to the wealthy young man.

Without shame Cousin Betsy had left Byron standing by the punch bowl while she set her hooks in Trenton. By the end of the evening, Bryon left alone and two months later Betsy and Trenton were married.

Isabella certainly never once grieved over the loss of a potential love, but she detested being played a fool.

To avoid the war, Betsy and her new husband enjoyed a four-year honeymoon in England. Most recently they had returned and bought a nearby plantation. Now she had the notion to reconnect.

Isabella eased herself up from her chair to go inside and prepare for her guests. She regretted responding to her letter. This was not a good day for a visit; in fact, there may never be a good day for a visit from Cousin Betsy.

As soon as she stepped inside the door she saw Rosa running through the foyer with a large wooden spoon, “Yous younguns gets down from there rights now!”

Isabella looked up to see three of Rosa’s grandchildren sliding down the banister railing. They were still giggling even when she threatened to give them a swift pop on their little rump.

It was an amusing sight and Isabella could not help laughing. “Rosa, let them have their fun,” Isabella said. “I might just have to take a slide with them.”

Rosa turned her frustration toward Isabella, “Young lady, donts yous remember how many times I had to tan your hide for the same thing. Don’t think I wants do it now.”

Isabella hiked up her skirt as if she was going to climb up on the railing and Rosa gave her a gentle pop on the rear. The action caused the children to laugh uncontrollably.

Pappy Earl heard the commotion and came running out of the kitchen. Taking the steps two at a time, he reached out with his big hands and sat the children down on the stairs. “When Miss Isa was little I had to paint dem railings nearly every week, but Grandpappy is too old to keep this up. If you younguns have scuffed up that paint, I am gonna makes yous and Miss Isa paint them.” He said and then ordered them to the kitchen to help Rosa.

The children looked back at Isabella, although they were pretending to cry she could see they were still smiling. The scene had triggered memories of Isabella’s childhood—playing in the fields, the corncrib, and riding horses until sunset.

When she reached the top of the steps the warm sunshine was streaming through the skylight onto the floor. She thought about another spring day, many years ago. She and Cousin Betsy had ridden down the path behind the barn where they discovered the family graveyard in the meadow. They spent the day picking flowers and reading the names on the tombstones. Now her mother and father both rested there under the wildflowers. If Betsy was not coming to visit, she would dress out, and ride there today. Suddenly she realized that she was feeling stronger.

Isabella chose her blue plaid frock with a white lace collar and reached for her jewelry box. She paused and ran her fingers over the mother-of-pearl inlay, then opened it, closed her eyes, and listened to its familiar tune.

Everything surrounding her was part of her history. Her grandfather had made the box, the pearl earrings she would wear were her grandmothers, and the ivory brush and comb belonged to her mother.

Handmade lace dollies covered the top of her dresser made from cherry wood cut from the backwoods. She pinned up her hair, covered her chignon with a net, stood up and looked into the mirror. With a strong tug she secured her petticoat that was hanging low in the front.

Looking in the mirror, she noted how much she looked like her mother. She was part of the old history and now she was making new history. Tears filled her eyes knowing that mirror would never see the reflection of her own children.

A knock at the door brought her back to the present time. Rosa’s head peeped through the door, “Isabella the carriage is comin up outside. Yous needs my help?”

“No thank you, Rosa,” Isabella answered, as she walked over to the window to look out over the drive.

It was a modern carriage of city black drawn by a pair of fine gray horses. Out jumped Trenton to open the passenger door for Betsy. Isabella smiled feeling like a spy in a tower watching them unload.

As Betsy stepped out, Trenton tried to take her hand, but she jerked her hand back in efforts to secure her hat. Her action was unsuccessful. The wind sat her hat sailing down the drive, and Betsy nearly stumbling to her knees.

Even though Isabella was two stories above she could hear her squeal. It was a comedy in motion as Trenton ran after the hat.

Betsy righted the hat back on her head, smoothed out her skirt and glanced up at the window where Isabella stood. Isabella ducked behind the curtain and then ran quickly downstairs.

Betsy and Trenton entered the house dressed in their Paris fashion flare and found Isabella sitting in the parlor with her needlework. She looked up calmly, even though her heart was pounding.

“It’s windy today, isn’t it cousin?” Betsy asked, as she sat down across from Isabella.

“I haven’t been outside this morning. But you know what they say about March. In like a lion and out like a lamb.” Isabella responded. She knew that Betsy was wondering if she had witnessed their mishap outside.

Then Isabella cautiously eased her eyes up to look directly at Betsy. The large blue ostrich feather in her hat was broken in half. Isabella took a deep breath and smiled, “So nice to see you Betsy, you are looking lovely as ever.”

Betsy laughed nervously and patted the settee beside her, “Sit down Trenton—don’t be shy. We are all family here,” she said giggling. Her head bobbing caused the broken feather to shed pieces onto her shoulder.

Isabella now eyed Trenton. When she saw him last, he was a tall fit man, now he was pressing on the side of obese.

Carefully he squeezed in next to his bride and smiled. Betsy nudged him, and he removed his hat, revealing a bald head, where a headful of red hair once grew.

For over two hours Isabella listened to her haughty cousin brag about their travels, and how they had so humbly came back so Trenton could help in his father’s business.

“Help is not actually right,” Betsy said. “Trenton will be taking over the family shipping business. He has a brother, but he has a drinking problem, and his father is senile. If it were not such a dire need, we would have stayed abroad.

Trenton looked at her nervously, as if he wished she would stop talking. He opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke over him. “Well, we were planning on moving back to start a family. We just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Isabella you are the first to know, we are expecting our first child.”

“Well congratulations,” Isabella said. “I know you both are excited.”

“Yes, I suppose at my age, we could not afford to wait much longer,” Betsy said, patting her husband on the knee.

Even though Isabella was two years older than Betsy, unmarried and without children, she smiled, pretending she had not recognized Betsy’s little insult.

If Trenton had not been in the room, she was not sure what would have transpired at that moment. She might be having a heart-to-heart conversation with her cousin or giving her a long-overdue blessing-out.

Betsy continued on with her endless conversation. “We are so overwhelmed considering the possible name choices for our baby. If it is a boy we will, of course, name it after Trenton, maybe his middle name will be one of our father’s. If it is a girl, maybe we will name her after my mother, or my great-aunt, or maybe even my favorite cousin—Isabella,” she said, ending with a roar of laughter.

Trenton spoke up, “Actually dear, I do like the name “Isabella.”

“No! I don’t think that would be good—not at all,” Isabella said, jumping up from her seat and walking to the window. For some time she had been listening to the magnolia branches scratching against the window. She parted the curtain and looked out, “The wind is really picking up and there is a very dark cloud over the horizon.”

This caught Trenton’s attention and he walked to the window. “Look! The trees are nearly bent over. Did your man secure our carriage?”

Isabella replied, “Excuse me let me speak with Pappy Earl this could cause us some immediate concern.”

She said nothing more and darted out the door with Trenton following. Betsy flopped down on the settee and started crying loudly. Trenton glanced back, waved his hand, asking her to be calm.”

Stepping out on the porch they saw Pappy Earl and Edward walking the horse and carriage toward the barn. The wind was blowing with such gust that the chairs were turned upside down and Isabella had to hold the hem of her skirt.

Pappy Earl called out to them, but the wind carried his voice away. At last, she understood him to say, “Twister!”

“Tornado?” Trenton questioned with alarm.

“Yes, go for Betsy—we need to get to the cellar now!” Isabella said. Hurrying inside she called out at the top of her voice, “Rosa! Rosa!”

Shortly, the three of them, and Rosa, were struggling to make their way across the lawn to the cellar. It had begun to rain and the wind was now greater.

Betsy was screaming and toddling along in her too-tight boots. Suddenly the wind blew her hoop over her head—she tripped on a root and fell to the ground.

Trenton untangled her and lifted her to her feet. The forge to the cellar continued with Betsy in a mud-covered dress and a hunk of artificial hair hanging off one side of her head.

Trenton lifted the cellar door and Betsy attempted to start down the stairs, again she slipped. Trenton reached for her and the cellar door slammed shut, leaving Isabella and Rosa standing above ground.

Both women tried to lift the door open, but it appeared to be completely stuck. “We will have to go back inside,” Isabella screamed out in the roaring wind.

When they turned Edward was running toward them and waved for them to go back. “Wait—I am coming,” he yelled.

In the midst of the flying debris, they could see Pappy Earl’s dark figure coming toward them from the barn. They hovered together and waited for Edward to lift up the cellar door.

Rosa being frail, Isabella forced her down the steps first, but before Isabella could go down the stairs, a large tree branch flying through the air hit her on the head. She collapsed to the ground. Faintly she could hear a voice calling her name, but then all went dark.

When Isabella opened her eyes, she was in a dark, cold place. The smell of musty earth filled her nostrils. “I must be dead and buried,” she muttered softly.

“No—no, you are safe,” came a deep voice out of the dark. “Do you remember the branch knocked you out? I carried you down the steps. You are in the cellar.” As her eyes regained focus she saw Edward’s face flickering in the dim light of a lantern.

Trembling she managed to raise her hand to her head. Her hand felt warm sticky blood. “Yes, I remember,” she said, trying to sit up. “Pappy Earl? Rosa?” she asked.

“Yes we are all here, everyone is safe,” Edward replied. “This thing appears to have passed over. Stay put, while I go up and take a look.”

Pappy Earl raised the lid of a large wooden box with the family crest. He retrieved a brown jug and offered Isabella a drink. “Here you go baby girl, this will take the edge off, till we can get you inside.”

Isa curled her lips around the lip of the bottle. She had smelled brandy on her father’s breath and other men, but this was her first sip. It was sweet, and she felt a warm sensation as it slides down her throat.

Slowly Pappy Earl helped her sit up to an erect position. Isa smiled seeing the look of love and concern in his eyes, but if she had shifted her eyes, she would have seen that Edward shared the same expression.

“Thank God,” Edward spoke up. “You gave us all a scare. I was praying hard that you would wake up. ” He leaned over and held the lantern over her head, he parted her hair and looked at the wound. “Not too deep, you might have a hell of a headache, but you will be fine.”

Pappy Earl took a drink of the jug, offered it to Edward, but he shook his head and passed it down to Rosa. She could fainting hear the jar gurgling after Rosa lifted it to her lips. “My nerves are shot,” Rosa said, coughing and clearing her throat.

Isabella had almost forgotten about Betsy and Trenton until she heard Betsy cry out. Edward turned the light in her direction where they saw Betsy clutching her stomach doubled. Her cry soon turned into screams and she doubles over with pain.

Trenton looked up at us with a plea for help. “She is with child,” he said.

“Good Lord help her!” he said.

Betsy grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. “Get me out of here, please. I am going to die, “she said gasping for breath.

Rosa moved over to her. “Yous ain’t gonna die, Miss Betsy. You best not get yourself worked up too much… not good for that baby. Try to calm yous self until we can gets in the house.”

Pappy Earl attempted to open the cellar door, but Edward had to help. As soon as the lid was opened they could see the evening sun streaming through.

“It’s passed over,” Edward said, looking back over his shoulder. Let’s get out of here.”

Betsy and Trenton were the first out. Isabella rose to her feet, holding onto her aching head, she climbed out without assistance.

As soon as Pappy Earl was above ground, he went to check on the others. Edward walked the others to the porch. “Trenton, do you want me to go for the doctor?” he asked.

“Yes, my man, yes!” Trenton said as he helped Betsy up the porch steps.

“No,” Rosa called out, looking down at the blotch of blood on the back of Betsy skirt. “Only the good Lord can determine if that girl is gonna lose that baby—ain’t nothing no doctor can do bouts it. Best get her upstairs and in bed.”

Trenton looked over at Rosa. He could see the years of wisdom in her face. “Betsy dear, I think she is right. Let’s get you upstairs,” he said to his wife.

They entered the house pulling Betsy inside screaming. “No-no, go for the doctor, I am going to die. “

Rosa spoke to her sharply, “We don’t have to go for no doctor he will hear you a screamin’ clean over in the next township.”

Edward uprighted a chair for Isabella and she sat down. The two of them said nothing for a few minutes as they eyed over the property at the damage.

“Not too bad,” Edward said. “Looks like a couple of trees snapped and some boards flew off the barn.”

“Yes, it looks like we were lucky,” Isabella said, rubbing her head.

“Why don’t you go inside, get cleaned up, and rest. Just make sure you don’t go to sleep, you might have a concussion. I’ll go check on the horses and then ride out and determine the damage.” Edward said.

Isabella tried to rise from the chair, but she felt dizzy and sat back down. “I’ll go in shortly,” she replied. “I think I’ll wait until Betsy settles down and stops screaming.”

Edward laughed slightly, “I don’t blame you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Isabella sat still, watching Edward run toward the barn. The sun was now shining and the eerier calmness sent a shiver up her spine.

For an undetermined amount of time, Isabella sat on the porch. It was almost dust when she got up to go inside. To ward off sleepiness, she decided to get something to drink and check on Betsy.

She walked down the hall toward the kitchen and could hear a faint sound coming from the pantry. When she opened the door, she saw Rosa’s three grandchildren huddled up in the corner singing, “Jesus loves me.”

Quickly she dropped to her knees to comfort the children. “It’s all right. You don’t have to be afraid, it’s all over,” she said, taking hold of them and pulling them to their feet.

One of the children declared, “We not afraid, we sings, so we don’t even hear that big wind blowing. Mammy said that Jesus calms all storms.”

“Yes he does,” Isabella said, as she helped the children out of the pantry. “Why were you not with Mama? I bet she is worried sick out you children.”

“Mama sent us to get a jar of strawberry jelly. When the big storm came over we hid in here,” the littlest one said.

Isabella looked around at the jars of canned meats, vegetables, and jams on the shelves. She recalled the many hours spent helping Rosa and her Mother prepare them. Those were happier days.

“Come on, let’s go look for your Mammy. She is upstairs tending to Miss Betsy,” she ordered.

“Is Miss Betsy sick?” The children asked as they followed her upstairs.

“Maybe … well… she fell. We will just have to see,” Isabella answered.

The blue bedroom door was open and quietly Isabella and her three little friends stepped into the room.

Trenton was standing by the window and Betsy was lying in the bed with her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Rosa was busy bundling up sheets. She looked up at Isabella and shook her head.

When Betsy was aware that Isabella was standing nearby, she began sobbing. “My precious baby has gone to heaven.”

Rosa motioned for the children to leave the room and gathered up the sheets.
“You children get back to yous Mama, rights now!”

The children took off running and Rosa and Isabella stepped out into the hall. Rosa closed the door behind her. “I spect I better get supper going. That girl needs to rest up a few days.”

“I’ll help you Rosa,” Isabella said. “I’ll get ham from the meat house. I am sure the wind blew the water up on the porch and all the wood will be wet.”

Edward joined them for a cold buffet and Rosa plated food for Trenton and Betsy upstairs.

After the meal, Edward gave his report to Isabella. A number of boards had blown off the left-wing of the house, a few windows were broken and a small tree had fallen on the roof. The fence in the rear was down and the cows got out. They had rounded them up all up, but two. The chicken houses were destroyed and Lord knows where the chickens were. The barn would need some extensive repairs. The horses were all safe, but Trenton’s carriage was damaged.

Isabella bit back her tears, even though Edward assured her it was all-fixable, with the exception of Trenton’s fancy carriage.

“How about your cabin?” Isabella asked.

“It’s in good shape—just like me,” he laughed. “Tomorrow we will survive the damage together. But for now, I am going to say good-night—it’s been a long day for us all.”

Isabella sat in the quiet parlor for some time after the door closed. She had been so young when she first met Edward. She was not quite sure if she was happy or worried that her old feelings for him were surfacing again. She went up the bed, thinking she was more worried than happy.

Alone in her room, she reached under her bed for her writing box. She took out her diary and pen and composed:

While in my youth my heart was tender with love so new,

Now the years have passed and I am twenty and two.

I have seen horrors of war and the union, red, white, and blue,

The sweat of the great sickness claimed the lives of those so true,

Now my God, my Lord, I can only turn to you,

Why has he returned causing such feelings of déjà vu?

Have you sent him back to give me my due?

Or have you sent him back to say I love you?

Attached to her diary was a key on a ribbon. She had never felt the need to lock her words before, but that night she locked the little book and hid the key in her jewelry box.

She allowed her mind to drift back to the days of summer picnics by the pond with neighboring families gathering after church service. There was music and young couples with little children.

Yes, the war was over. She could sense the people and the land were healing. There was a new tomorrow on the horizon. The storms had passed; the rain and wind had washed the land clean. Perhaps soon the sun will shine on the Southland as bright as an Easter morn.

Could it be that God had sent Edward as a reward for her faithfulness? Could she find happiness again? God knows she had certainly paid her dues, they all had.

Since her mother and father had died, she felt like she was just a product of the land. Like the crops in the field, when her season was over, she would decay and be no more.

But now there might be a new season—a season of love, hope, and family. A gentle smiled graced her lips as she laid her head down on her pillow.

Suddenly her eyes flew open and the devil robbed her peace. She could not have children—the doctor had told her so. Rosa’s children’s laughter would be the only childish coos that old house would hear.

What man would want a woman that could not bear him children? Edward had his issues, but that still did not mean he did not want sons or daughters.

She fretted over the past and the unknown. She felt reverence for Trenton and Betsy who had just lost their child. But even so, deep down inside something was causing her blood to pump. Even though she did not recognize it—it was hope and joy that tomorrow was going to be a better day.

Chapter Three

The sun broke through the lace curtains leaving their tiny intricate shadows on the floor. There were stirring sounds in the hall and Isabella could hear Rosa’s voice.

She got up and dressed for the day.

As soon as she stepped out into the hall she could see Rosa coming out of the blue bedroom. Rosa acknowledged Isabella and shook her head. “Is got my hands full with that there girl.”

Isabella followed Rosa down the steps listening to her telling how many times she had been up and down catering to Betsy.

In the parlor sat Edward and Trenton sipping coffee. Trenton was dressed in his hat and coat as if he was preparing to leave.

“Isabella!” Trenton called out, “Please come here. I have been waiting to speak with you.” Reluctantly Isabella walked in and sat down.

“Now my dear Isa, I am so sorry to say that I must plea upon you’re good nature. I have to go back to the shipyard for a few days. My father needs me and I promised not to be gone just one night. Betsy is fretting that she cannot travel even for the short jolt. I beg that you might keep her in your care until I can get back by the weekend.”

“Does she know you are leaving?” Isabella asked.

“No, I did not dare tell her until I had spoken to you,” he answered.

“Of course we will care for her, but she is not going to be at all satisfied,” Isabella said on the defense.

Trenton laughed briefly than responded, “That is nothing new Cousin Isabella. Is our Betsy ever satisfied?”

Isabella raised her eyebrows and nodded her head, “Not to be disrespectful, but Betsy has always been a wee bit spoiled.”

“Spoiled? Why she can be a royal pain in the ass,” Trenton said, “but she is my beautiful little pain and I gladly take my pill.”

Trenton stood up and tipped his hat and then hurried back upstairs to break the news. In a few minutes, he returned downstairs with a look of distress on his face.

“How did she take it, my friend?” Edward asked.

Trenton reared back on the heels of his boots a bit. “Well, just as one might expect for Betsy. I had to agree to send for the doctor to examine her and promise to arrange for her mother to visit. I left her crying in her pillow.”

“So sad. I know that was hard on you,” Edward said with concern.

“Not really, I have grown used to her little fits. Her father warned me before we married. I have found it to be true, she will get over it as soon as I bribe her with a new treat.”

“But Trenton, she has lost her baby. Most women would be disheartened over such,” Isabella said.

“You don’t know Betsy as well as I do,” Trenton said smiling. “I will send out a nice gift with her mother—perhaps a silk purse or a lovely cameo—you will see.”

“I hope so, but it is altogether sad,” Isabella replied, feeling that Trenton was taking the situation all too lightly.

“It is, but as Rosa said, most women lose a baby or two. Betsy is healthy and there is no reason she can’t have more children.” He smiled and without saying goodbye he turned to leave.

Shortly he returned and stuck his head back in the door. “Oh Isa, I asked your man to saddle up one of your horses for me. As you recall my carriage was destroyed in the storm. I suppose I will need to take out a loan and purchase a new one. Oh well, another thing on the list before I return,” he said and hurried toward the door.

After Isabella heard the front door close, she turned to Edward, “Well, it looks like we are stuck with Betsy.”

Edward slowly walked to the window to see Trenton riding off. “Hey that is my horse!” he called out. He ran out the door shouting, but Trenton was out of reach.

Edward came back in. “I hope he comes back with my horse,” he said, angrily.

“Oh he will,” Isabella said, in a calm voice. “You know he has to come back for Betsy.”

“Not sure if I would,” Edward muttered.

Isabella was not sure how to respond to the comment. In many ways, she agreed, but in some sense, it worried her. Was Edward the kind that would up and leave his wife?

Edward did not wait or expect a reply. “I have a lot of work to do today. I better get on to it,” he said heading for the door. ” I reckon I will see you at suppertime Miss Isa.”

He trampled across the field with worried thoughts. Trenton seemed like a nice, reasonable fellow; surely he had intelligence enough to have picked a reasonable wife. Had she changed or had he let his passions and desires cloud his judgment.

As he approached the barn he said, “Easy to let a woman take hold of your mind,” not even realizing he has spoken aloud.

Next, he heard laughing. Quickly he turned to see Pappy Earl sitting on a small stool working on one of the horse’s shoes. “Yous are in the same boat as we all is,” Pappy Earl said. “Women folks? Yous can’ts live with them and you can’ts live without them.”

Edward nodded and went about his work. He certainly did not want to get in a conversation about women with Pappy, especially disclosing any of his fears or feelings for Isabella.

Edward was hungry. He had missed breakfast and so had Isabella, but she had not noticed until Rosa tapped on her parlor door. “Isabella, yous got to keep up your strength. I am a fixing to take a plate up to Miss Betsy. Do yous want to go up and have breakfast with her?”

“No,” Isabella replied quickly.

Rosa stood at the door with her hands on her hips and gave her a stern look. “Yous need to eat and that girl needs company. Now scat! Gets upstairs and I will be there in a jiffy.”

Isabella knew she was right on both accounts and obeyed her wishes. She knew that maybe Edward thought that Betsy was just a spoiled complaining little thing. In fact, she was, but in this case, Isabella actually felt sorry for her. Everyone deserves to be cared for.

After knocking softly on the door, Isabella entered the room. Betsy looked up at her with tears in her eyes. Her doll-like face was swollen from the bouts of long crying.

Isabella sat down in the rocking chair by the bed. “Dear Betsy, I can’t begin to imagine how difficult this is for you. Are you in physical pain?”

“No—well—yes,” she responded.

“I can offer you a bit of laudanum if you are in very much pain. But we have only a small bit left and God only knows when we shall get more,” Isabella said, expecting her to greedily insist on having it.

“I can bear it,” Betsy said. “I know you can’t possibly understand how terrible this all is for me dear cousin since you don’t even have a husband.” Then she turned her head toward the wall.

A fury came over Isabella, she wanted to get up and leave the room, but she took a deep breath and responded. “Yes, unfortunately, that is true.”

At that Betsy quickly turned back around to face Isabella, “So you think I am fortunate to have a husband?” she asked in an angry tone.

“Yes, I do!” Isabella replied back in the same tone. “Furthermore, you are fortunate to be healthy and able to have more children. Not like myself that cannot carry a single child in my wound. So, if you expect me to feel sorry for you for days on end, you are badly mistaken.”

Betsy’s eyes widened, Isabella had never spoken to her like that, nor had she ever heard Isabella raise her voice to anyone before.

The two locked eyes and there was dead silence in the room until at last Betsy spoke. “I am sorry. I did not know. When my mother comes I will go back with her. I have troubled you enough already.”

It was as shocking to hear Betsy apologize, as it was to hear Isabella raise her voice. The two of them sat in silence until Rosa brought them their food at which time they resumed some symbolist of conversation.

After they had eaten Betsy revisited their old chat. “So tell me cousin Isa why are you unable to have children? How can you be so sure? Have you tried,” she said laughing just a bit.

Isabella felt that Betsy was infringing on her privacy by questioning her virginity. Still understanding Betsy, she responded. “The doctor says the fever burns out a woman’s reproductive organs. I no longer even have my cycle.”

“I see,” Betsy said. “Have you seen only the one doctor? That is contrary to the information I read in the Ladies Home Journal. It said that most women after their health is restored their cycles will return.”

“No, I have seen only Dr. Zimmermann. I trust him, but I would be very interested in reading that article,” Isabella replied.

“Of course, I will mail it to you once I get back home,” Betsy answered.

“About going back home, you are truly welcome to stay as long as you need. I am sorry I made you feel unwanted,” Isabella added.

“Thank you, but there is a reason I need to go home as soon as I am able. Now as you have confined in me, I shall confide in you. I have reason to suspect that my husband … well, he has …another lover,” Betsy whispered.

“No! Surely you are mistaken. Trenton is devoted to you. Anyone can see that,” Isabella said in shock.

“It appears as such, but several nights a week, he does not come home until late and then sleeps in the parlor on the sofa,” Betsy continued. “If I question him he says he was working late. What shipyard is opened at midnight?”

“Perhaps he is doing some sort of spy or government work and cannot tell you the details,” Isabella said.

“The war is over—what could it be but another woman?” Betsy said as she began wailing and crying again.

ERASE

Isabella Henrietta Augustine tied the sash on her skirt a little tighter. She was thin—but not painfully thin. She glanced in the mirror—she was pale, but not painfully pale. In view of all, she had been through she was reasonably presentable and by most accounts a beautiful young woman.

The War Between the States was over, but for Isabella the war was just beginning. She laid her hands face down on the dusty hardwood floor and pushed up to regain her stance.

“Miss Isa, dar is a mans here to sees yous.” Papa Earl said pointing toward the barn.

Isabella eyed a tall man leaning against the barn with his arms crossed. She squinted her eyes to see if she recognized his face, which was nearly hidden underneath a wide brim straw hat. When he saw her looking in his direction, he tipped his head.

Isabella took a deep breath and whispered to Papa Earl, “Yankee Tax Collector?”

“He don’t say, he rode in dis morn sayin he needs to speaks with yous,” Papa Earl replied. “Dos you wants me to goes with yous?”

With her head held high she could now see the man’s face. Something was strangely familiar about him. She stopped to glance back at Papa Earl who was watching in anticipation like an old bird dog on point.