Ask a Shadow to Dance (25 page)

“Did your wife work?”

“She did before our daughter was born. She was a teacher. Then she decided she’d rather be a full-time mother. When Alyssa was four, we enrolled her in nursery school.”

“Children begin school when they’re only four years old? They’re just babies!”

He laughed. “Children grow up more quickly than they used to. In some ways that’s good. In other ways, I suppose it’s bad. But Alyssa loved going to nursery school. She’d come home every day with paintings she’d done, or something made from clay.” His throat constricted until he couldn’t talk anymore, his chest tight with the pressure of years of anxiety, so he just smiled.

“Oh, David, I’m so sorry. You miss her terribly, don’t you?”

He nodded, still unable to trust his voice.

“Would you like to have more children someday?”

Having another child would make his life complete. There was an emptiness inside which nothing but the laughter and love of a child could fill. He had never let himself think about having another child. He gathered Lisette into his arms and whispered, “Nothing could make me happier.
Nothing.”

“Then, we shall have as many children as you want, David. Will ten be enough?”

He laughed, relieved to feel the pressure in his chest abate. “Two or three will be plenty.”

“A small family, then.”

From the way she held him, he knew their “small family” would make her happy, too.

Mr. Rogers returned and invited them into his office.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you came before, Miss Morgan. No, I’m sorry. It’s Westmoreland now, isn’t it?”

“My husband died. I’m a widow.”

“I’m terribly sorry. I hadn’t heard.” He offered his hand to David. “I’m Louis Rogers.”

David shook hands with him. “David Stewart.”

“Doctor Stewart wants to speak to you about a most urgent matter. I would appreciate it if you would help in any way possible, just as you always have for the Morgan family.” She reached for David’s hand. “Doctor Stewart and I are going to be married soon.”

“Congratulations! May I be the first to offer best wishes to you
both!” He directed his next words to David. “This young lady was her father’s pride and joy, Doctor Stewart. I cannot tell you how much he adored her. When she left for New Orleans, it grieved him terribly.”

Lisette was visibly moved by this admission. David had no doubts that Jacob, even in his diminished state, regretted his actions. Any father, having committed such an unforgivable sin, would have been devastated. The lawyer rattled on.

“I’m gratified to know that she …well, that the two of you … that is—”

“Thank you.” Lisette sat up straighter, her composure regained. “You have served the Morgan family well for many years. I’m sure that will be the case for years to come.”

David could see the statement came with difficulty. Truthfully, neither Lisette nor David could state with any finality what the future would hold. One thing he knew for sure, though. That future would include both of them, either in this century or his own.

Mr. Rogers focused his attentions on David, now that the formalities were out of the way.

“I want to be sure the Morgan home is still here a hundred years from now and the furnishings preserved in excellent condition.”

He leaned back in his chair. “What you ask is difficult, Doctor Stewart, but not impossible. Such preservation would cost a great deal of money. The preservation of a home for that length of time—”

Lisette broke in. “How much money?”

“There’s no way to say for sure. I would estimate a hundred thousand dollars. The interest that money would accumulate should take care of every eventuality, without having to disturb the principal.”

David knew Lisette had at least that much left of her inheritance from Westmoreland. And there had to be money from Morgan Enterprises.

Lisette smiled confidently. “That amount is available now. I had my assets transferred from New Orleans just before I left, coming home to Memphis. How do we handle it?”

He almost did a double take. “You have that much in a bank account, Miss Morgan?”

“I do. It was my inheritance from the late Mr. Westmoreland. I would gladly invest a hundred thousand dollars to insure the Morgan home’s preservation. Can you arrange it for us and manage the account and the maintenance whenever necessary? That is, you and your successors.”

Once more, David was astounded at how quickly Lisette had picked up on what he had in mind. But there was one last detail he wanted to include in this arrangement.

“May I speak with Mrs. Westmoreland privately for a moment?”

“Of course. Would either of you care for something to drink?”

“No, thank you.” Lisette was clearly anxious for him to leave so David could tell her what was on his mind. After he left the room, she kissed him. He felt her tears on his cheek. “What a wonderful idea. I never would have thought of it.”

“I’m glad you approve. There’s one more thing we have to do to insure that you’ll still own this house in 2009, when we get back.”

Her smile faded. “What if we don’t?”

“I felt I should ask you before telling Rogers to stipulate in the trust that the ownership of the house be retained by the Morgan family until it passes into ownership of Lisette Stewart, or …”

She stared at him for a long moment.
“Or your brother, Joe. Is that what you’re thinking?”

Incredible.
“Exactly. I’ll write to Joe, tell him what we’ve done and that the house will be his in two thousand nine if we can’t get back. He’ll make sure the Morgan home is never sold or the contents divided. This law firm will keep the letter, pass it through the firm and deliver it on the date I specify. This will probably be the most unusual request Rogers has ever received. He’ll take care of the letter and the house, which will remain just as it is now.”

“Forever.”
Her bottom lip quivered but she surprised him and laughed. “David, I love you so much. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I do. In the short time I’ve been there, I’ve fallen in love with the Morgan home. If we can save it, we must.” He kissed her again. “I love you, Lisette. Just the minute we’re settled, I want to marry you.”

Mr. Rogers knocked lightly. They invited him in. After hearing what they wanted to do—David didn’t mention the letter—he called for his secretary. She took notes for a document to be drawn up immediately.

“We have to sign tomorrow.” David had to give him credit. He didn’t ask why.

“Certainly. We’ll have it ready for your signature by ten o’clock tomorrow morning. If that isn’t soon enough—”

“That will be fine.” They shook hands. After more congratulations from his secretary and the other lawyers of the firm who came to tell them good-bye, they left the office.

David had never seen Lisette so calm and serene—and happy—as she was at that moment. He longed to share that serenity. The
Cajun Star
sailed tomorrow evening at six o’clock. If he only knew what to expect when they boarded that riverboat.

Back at the Morgan home, Lisette went to check on Jacob and Portia. David settled himself at the desk in the sitting room, intricately carved and immaculately polished, and thought about sitting here again a hundred years from now. Barring natural disasters, the fund Lisette had established would provide more than enough money to keep the property intact and maintained.

He found paper and a quill pen. After one scratch, he went upstairs to his medical bag and found a ballpoint clipped to his prescription pad. Back downstairs, he began to write.

November 20, 1885

Dear Joe,

You will receive this letter on November 21, but a hundred and twenty-four years later—if this lawyer does as I ask. The Cajun Star is scheduled to leave Memphis tomorrow at 6:00 p.m. Lisette and Jacob Morgan will pretend to board the boat, as will I. Our plan is to trick Andrew Westmoreland into believing Lisette, her father and I are lost, and will, therefore, pursue us no further. He mistakenly believes he will be able to take over the Morgan home and all of Lisette’s
assets, including Morgan Enterprises, by virtue of his relationship to Lisette, but we have taken steps today to make sure this doesn’t happen. Along with this letter you will receive documents and instructions for the administration of a trust fund set up today to insure the protection of the Morgan home. I hope and pray nothing has happened to the house between now and the time you receive this letter. If necessary, I’ll stay with her and we’ll care for the house as long as we live. There are many variables, especially concerning Portia and Jacob Morgan. If necessary, I’ll write additional letters, to be delivered to you later on, so you’ll know what happened and what to expect.

There’s no way to tell you, Joe, how much I love you. I could never have asked for a better brother or a closer friend. Remember all the good times we shared and know that I always envied your adventurous spirit and your foolhardy craziness. You did everything I always wanted to do. Thanks for a million laughs and enough scares to last a lifetime.

I have to tell you this, just so you’ll know that all I’ve done is worth the price I may ultimately be required to pay. Lisette is everything to me. I can’t live without her. Please understand, if I can’t come back, I’m happy here with her and I regret nothing. Tell Bob how much I appreciate his help.

I
guess that’s about it. Tell Shawna and Marilu I love them, too. Try to explain why I didn’t have time to tell them good-bye in person.

One more thing.
Check the history books and the genealogy charts for Stewarts born after 1885 in Memphis, Tennessee. I think you know what those children will mean to me.

Always,

David

David read through the letter, decided he’d said all there was to say, folded the fragile onionskin paper carefully, then found an envelope in the second drawer. He sealed the flap, addressed it to Joseph Ingram Stewart and slid it into the lapel pocket of Jacob Morgan’s suit. With a sigh, he went upstairs to find Lisette.

She was in Portia’s room, sitting beside the bed in an ornate chair that David suspected would be as uncomfortable as that funny little divan in the parlor. If they were to live in this house, either now or a hundred years from now, at least one comfortable chair would have to be added. Portia was saying something about her parents and the early days of Memphis.

“Come in, David.” Lisette pointed to another chair across the room and motioned for him to bring it close to the bed. “I told Aunt Portia we’re going to be married, and she was about to tell me something that happened between her parents when she was a little girl.”

David pulled up the chair, sat down, surprised the chair wasn’t nearly as stiff as he’d expected, and listened with interest. For a few moments, at least, the difficulties facing them could be ignored in favor of sweet memories.

Portia’s voice was stronger now, and her bruises were fading. He thought about giving her another injection, then decided to save the medications for emergencies. The thought of depleting them made him slightly panicky.

Portia pointed to a rock on the crocheted doily covering the bedside table. “Hand me that rock, child.” Holding it, she reached for Lisette’s
hand, a gesture he suspected was a tradition from Lisette’s childhood.

“You listen carefully, David. This story is for you, too. My father adored my mother, but he had a rather gruff way about him at times. When I was four or five years old, and Jacob a year older, Mama fixed something for supper she’d never fixed before. I can’t remember what it was. When Papa sat down and tasted it, he said, “I’d sooner eat rocks!” and stormed away from the table.

“Jacob and I sat like statues in our chairs, terrified to say a word. Mama didn’t say anything, either. The three of us ate supper in silence. We were scared spitless. We ate every bite on our plates, told Mama it was real good, and ran straight to our rooms.

“The next evening, just before supper, Jacob and I hurried to the table. We couldn’t wait to see what would happen. Papa came to the table as though nothing had happened. Mama came from the kitchen with the huge cooking pot, the one she used to cook beef stew. The smells coming from that pot made my mouth water. “She set the pot in front of Papa. He said grace and opened the lid. The steam smelled heavenly.”

“What did Grandpapa do then, Aunt Portia?”

She smiled, making them wait a moment longer. “He picked up the big ladle,
then stirred through the pot. The pleased expression on his face changed to a frown. When he raised the ladle, we strained to see what was there. The gravy-coated lump on the ladle was bigger than any meatball Mama had ever made, perfectly smooth and about the size of Mama’s pincushion. When Papa put it into a bowl, it made the oddest clinking sound, not like anything cooked! Papa went right on ladling until we all had a bowl with three or four lumps, covered with thick brown gravy.

“I spooned one of the round objects into my mouth.” Portia nodded. “In the most delicious brown gravy my mother ever made, before or after that day—rocks.”