A Time for Everything (37 page)

May 16,1866

Dear Ellen,

Wedding preparations are
causing a ruckus in the household. Miss Clemons and her mother have
been coming every day for one thing or another. First, to discuss
new décor that ‘signifies our new beginning’ she said. Yesterday,
they arrived with a seamstress to be fitted for her wedding gown.
Of course, they had all the measurements done right there in the
entry hall for everyone to see. They’ve set the date for June 2.
The children and I have taken refuge outside for our studies.
Thankfully, the weather is pleasant enough.

Sallie Mae is still coming
for lessons. Isaac fetches her each morning. I wish she and Lucy
hadn’t returned to Mr. Clemons so soon, but he insisted. Bessie
told me Mr. Stanford is going there every night to make certain
Lucy has no new bruises. I hope for her sake that Mr. Clemons will
be merciful. I admire Beau for caring so much about her
wellbeing.

Samuel (and oh, I am so
glad he is here!) joined the men in cutting down trees from a
wooded portion of the property. He has befriended the owner of the
local sawmill and has negotiated use of the mill to process the
lumber for Mr. Stanford. He says he is ‘happy as a clam at high
tide’ to be working in exchange for his food and board. He also
says he will ask about more work so he can get a little money
saved. Then he and I can return to Brentwood and start over. Last
night, however, he was out late with Harry and didn’t come home
until after I had retired. He whispered, “Night, Po,” through my
door, and he sounded as if he had been drinking. I hope he will not
make this a habit…

The very same day, a letter arrived
from Ellen. She’d had her baby. By now he would be a week old.
Portia’s eyes welled with bittersweet tears as she read.

We named him Jake. I hope
you don’t mind. His head is covered in red-blond fuzz, the same
color as his uncle’s hair. He’s a hungry little thing and eats
round the clock, but he’s got rosy cheeks and is getting plumper
every day. I’m thankful Mama’s here to help. Even Louise is doing
what she can, though she can barely handle a broom. She’s getting
good at changing diapers. I hope you will come visit soon, Po. We
miss you something awful…

Nothing could dampen
Portia’s joy over the news. She would plan a visit soon, her and
Samuel. For the first time since she’d arrived in Lebanon,
she
wanted
to go
back home, just to see those familiar faces and hear their voices,
to kiss the sweet little one that bore her husband’s
name.

On Thursday morning, during breakfast,
Beau tossed his napkin on his plate. He stood up, brushed his hands
together, and announced, “Jonny, get the fishing poles. I feel like
trout for dinner!”

“
Sure, Pa, I’ll go right
now!” Jonny smiled from ear to ear and tripped over his own two
feet. He couldn’t get out the door fast enough.

Portia feigned indignation. “And what
of our lessons, Mr. Stanford? We are discussing the riveting Magna
Carta and its contribution to constitutional law.”

Beau laughed. “When we need a good
nap, we’ll be sure to return and be lulled into sleep.”

She turned up her nose and harrumphed.
But she couldn’t hide the joy on her face.

From the front porch, she watched them
leave. Jonny sat on one of the saddle horses, and Beau on Scout,
fishing poles bouncing on their shoulders. Lydia came around the
side of the house with a gardener just then, pointing at bushes and
flower beds and talking a mile a minute. The poor gardener hastily
scribbled on a notebook, trying to keep up with her
orders.

Before Beau and Jonny got too far,
Beau turned back, rode up to the porch and removed his hat. His
face — relaxed and happy — reminded Portia of the man she had seen
in the photograph on her first day there.

He put his hat to his chest, and with
a quick bow of his head, he said, “Thank you, Po, for
everything.”

After Beau rode off, Lydia tore her
ferocious glare from Portia and directed all her wrath on the
gardener, yelling, “I don’t care if it’s not the right climate for
delphiniums. You’re the plant expert. Figure out how to make them
grow!”

Portia hid her smile as she retreated
inside. She lived on Beau’s words the rest of the day, but she felt
sorry for that gardener.

She couldn’t help worrying about her
brother, though. Harry and Samuel had become quite the pair,
working on the farm together, heading into town in the afternoons
and playing cards in the evening. Portia wasn’t sure how she should
feel about that, but at least Harry didn’t pursue her anymore, and
Samuel seemed happy to have a friend.

Friday after lunch, she sat with Sam
on the front porch for a little while. Rain poured down from a
juvenile cloud — one of many that provided scattered showers that
day. They both rested their heads on the backs of the rockers,
enjoying the momentary solitude and soft shushing of the
rain.

“
Harry says you’re in love
with Beau,” Sam said, shattering their peaceful silence.

Portia stopped rocking, sat up
straight, and looked around them. Luckily no one was visible, and
hopefully no one was in earshot. “Don’t say such things, Sam, not
out here in the open like this.”

“
I’ve seen you look at
him. You used to get all googly eyed over Jake like that when we
was youngins.”

She gave another quick scan of their
surroundings. No one else stirred. She sighed and slumped back into
her rocking chair. Just above a whisper, she turned her head toward
Sam and asked, “Is it that obvious?”

“
Is a frog’s ass
watertight?”

She chuckled. “Got me. But it doesn’t
matter what I feel. He’s marrying Lydia Clemons.”

“
Then I oughta wring his
neck for you.” He actually sounded angry, unusual for the Sam who
never took things seriously.

“
While the sentiment’s
flattering, that’s not necessary. Besides, he doesn’t have a choice
in the matter.”

“
Why not? She got his
balls held hostage or something?”

She had to laugh at that one, but she
realized she couldn’t tell Sam all the details. “It’s a long story.
Have you found work yet?”

“
Ain’t much to be had
around here, Po. I think we should consider going to Nashville.
Should be easier to find a job there. I could put us up in a
boarding house until we get enough saved up to find our own place.
You could probably find a better teaching job, too, one that
actually
pays
.”

“
Maybe you’re right.” Much
as she hated to admit it, no matter how much she loved this house
and no matter how much she loved Beau, Jonny, Ezra, Bessie, Isaac,
and Sallie Mae, she didn’t belong there. Their lives were meant to
flow along different courses.

She reached across the space between
her and her little brother and took his hand. He squeezed hers in
return and gave her a reassuring smile. At least she had
Sam.

~~~~

At dinner that
night, Beau had somehow managed to avoid Lydia’s
company and joined them. Samuel and Harry were late to the table,
stumbling in while laughing about something. They plopped in their
chairs and started digging in.

Portia stared in disbelief. “Samuel
Joseph Sullivan! Are you drunk?”

“
Not nearly as much as I’d
like to be.” He scratched his beard and snickered.

Harry chomped down on some potatoes,
cheek rounded out like a chipmunk, and grinned at Beau, who looked
like he could strangle him then and there.

Samuel tried to take Portia’s hand,
and she snatched it away. “Look, sis, I ain’t had a drink in
months. Harry and I are just havin’ a little fun.”

“
You could have been here
working, like the rest of us.”

He didn’t seem fazed by that and
gulped down his water. “Guess who I met?”

Portia sighed. “I give up.
Who?”

“
Aw, you’re no fun. I met
an Irishman, some fella who wants to teach colored
children.”

Drunk or not, everyone paused to
listen.

Samuel continued, “I told him my
sister’s a teacher and that she’s teachin’ a little colored
kid.”

“
Jonny, get upstairs.”
Beau waited for the boy to leave the room and then slammed his fist
on the table. “What kind of a fool are you? You can’t talk like
that in public — think about your sister, for God’s
sake!”

Beau’s outburst both
surprised and flattered Portia. He must have felt
something
for her if he
was that worried about her safety.

“
I
am
thinkin’ about my sister.” Sam
turned to Portia, looking decidedly sober. “The man says they’re
lookin’ for teachers to work in their new colored school and he’s
real interested in meetin’ you. He says they got a nice one bein’
built in Nashville. And they pay good, Po. Better than what you’re
gettin’ here.”

With that last jab, he stared right at
Beau, who spoke quietly, but firmly. “I’ve given her all I can. I
don’t see you doing any better, out getting drunk instead of
working like a real man should.”

Portia tried to calm her brother by
putting a hand on his chest, but Samuel threw his napkin down on
his plate and yelled, “A real man would have figured out a way to
be with my sister instead of givin’ in to a spoiled little
bitch!”

Beau stood up so fast he knocked his
chair to the floor. He left the room without a word. Ezra shook his
head and followed him out.

“
How could you?” Portia
said to her brother, not caring that Harry was still there,
enjoying the show.

“
It’s the truth and you
know it,” Sam said, pointing his finger at her face.

“
Truth or not, you have no
business coming here just to dally around town all day, get drunk,
and then disrespect the man who’s letting you stay here for free.
You haven’t changed, Samuel. Not in the least.”

She pushed away from the table and
headed for the door.

“
Come on, sis, I didn’t
mean it. I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

“
Really? Well, you have a
lousy way of showing it. Enjoy your dinner, both of you. I’m going
to bed.”

She reached the stairs and heard Harry
calling out with feigned innocence, “Night, Po…”

Though she hated herself for thinking
it, part of her wished Samuel had never returned.

Portia abandoned any hope of sleeping
after lying there watching the moon rise and listening to the
crickets sing. She got up, quietly opened her door, and padded
barefoot down the hall. First, she checked on Jonny. He lay on his
back, arm hanging off the bed, snoring softly. Smiling, she eased
his door shut and tiptoed down the stairs.

May had granted them some very
agreeable weather, and the nights were splendid — comfortably cool
with gentle breezes. Perfect for clearing the mind. And right now
her mind dwelled on what Samuel told her about the Irishman.
Nashville wasn’t more than a rock’s throw from there, but it might
as well have been a world away.

Silently as she could, she stepped
onto the front porch and stopped short. The silhouette of a man sat
at the top of the steps. It took her only a moment to realize it
was Beau.

He turned and smiled. “Can’t sleep
either, huh?”

“
No.”

He patted the space beside him, and
she sat, drawing her knees up to her chin and pulling her gown over
her legs.

“
Samuel was right,” he
said.

“
About what?”

“
About me.”

She shook her head. “No, he wasn’t.
You’re doing what you think is right.”

“
Am I? Or am I taking the
selfish way out? If I marry her, I’ll get Lucy and Tipp freed and…”
He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll also get out of
debt. I don’t know which one of those really matters most to
me.”

He locked eyes with her. A storm of
grief darkened his face, like his honesty could make her hate him
forever. Portia wanted so badly to wrap her arms around him, but
she hugged her knees instead.

“
Then tell me something…”
She was afraid to ask, but the question dangled between them like a
loose thread. “…would you still have married her if Lucy and Tipp
didn’t need help?”

Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand
through his hair. “No. I admit, when she first arrived, it was
tempting — she looked so much like Claire, I couldn’t help… you
know… looking at her.” He glanced at Portia with a shameful smile.
“But it didn’t take long to see she resembled Claire in looks
alone. They both came from money, but Claire was the kindest, most
unselfish woman I had ever known. She fit into fine society, but
she wasn’t bound to it, and she wasn’t ruined by it. No, Lydia’s
nothing like Claire, and she’s nothing like you.”

Portia swallowed hard and stared up at
the moon. “I’ll be fine. I’ve survived this long, haven’t I? As
long as Jonny’s happy, I’ll be fine.”