Ask a Shadow to Dance (6 page)

“I dare because, in time, I am going to be your husband. As soon as it is socially acceptable, we’re going to be married. I’m going to take responsibility for my dear departed father’s wife—just as my father asked me to do—and run Morgan Enterprises, since your poor father is too ill and incompetent to do so.” He pulled her within an inch of his face, his foul breath hot on her skin. “If you ever push me away again, I promise you won’t forget it.” He crushed his mouth on hers for what seemed an eternity, his teeth biting into the tender flesh of her lips.

When he finally released her, she pushed past him and ran toward the front door, tears streaming down her swollen face.

When she got to the door, she stood there a moment, her lips throbbing, tasting blood. Swiping at tears, she pulled herself erect, assuming the posture of a well-bred woman, trying to maintain some measure of dignity. She reached into a pocket in her dress, pulled out a small purse, took out several bills and replaced the purse. She purposefully allowed blood to flow from her lip, wanting him to see what he’d done to her. She would not have to testify to Andrew’s barbarism. Her blood would tell the tale.

She opened the door and stood there, waiting for him to leave, knowing if she defied him again, he would hurt her worse than he already had.

Andrew took the money. “I’ll need more. You can go to the bank Monday.” He stared into her eyes. “Good, Lisa. You’re learning already.”

She didn’t respond. He talked animatedly for a moment about how their lives together would be satisfying and productive. He outlined the duties she would have as his wife, emphasizing her role as keeper of the home and children. Lisette shuddered at the thought of bearing this man’s offspring. She would rather die than have him touch her again. The cold of the November night, swarming into the foyer, chilled her to the bone.

He went outside to the porch. She immediately tried to close the door, but he blocked it with his boot. “I want to see how much you’ve been listening.” He leaned toward her.

Just as his lips were about to touch hers, she coughed straight into his face. He leaned back sharply, giving her time to slam the door and bolt it. She touched her lips carefully and felt blood, warm and wet on her fingers.

She went back to the parlor and stood for a moment at the window, watching as he walked toward town. With her heart pounding, revenge burning in her like the fires of hell, she vowed to see Andrew in jail before the sun reached its zenith tomorrow.

When Lisette turned from the window, Aunt Portia was coming down the stairs. “Who was that, child? I wanted to come down, but Jacob—”

“It was Andrew.” Lisette turned away, hoping to spare Aunt Portia more grief.

“I hope you sent him packing.”

“I did. It wasn’t easy.”

“What a long, trying day you’ve had. Why not come to bed? We’ll take care of that ruffian after a good night’s sleep.”

“I’ll be upstairs in a minute, Aunt Portia.” Lisette faced the fireplace, holding out her hands as though warming them. Her fingers were red and sticky with blood. She folded her fingers into fists and found the gesture satisfying.

“If you need anything, child, call me.”

“I will.”

Aunt Portia came to give her a hug and kiss good-night. There was no way to conceal the injuries now. She cried out at the sight of Lisette’s face.

“Your dress! You’re covered in blood! Dear Lord—” Portia ran to the kitchen and returned with a damp cloth. Lisette poured out the whole story while Aunt Portia sat beside her on the sofa, cleaning her face and hands. While Lisette talked, Aunt Portia cried.

“So, I coughed in his face and slammed the door.”

Portia’s eyes widened. “You didn’t.” She giggled.

Lisette stared at her, completely puzzled. “Aunt Portia?”

“Good for you! I hope you gave him the epizooty.”

She tried to smile, prevented by pain in her lips. “You always make me feel better.”

She gathered Lisette close and held her, rubbing her back with one hand, stroking her arm with the other.

“Tomorrow, Aunt Portia, I’ll decide what I’m going to do about Andrew.”

“Don’t you mean, what
we
are going to do?”

“I never meant to involve you in all this. If Andrew finds out I told you, he’ll do something awful, to Papa or to you. I have to get to the police station, first thing in the morning.”

“They’ll take care of him.” Her frown eased into a smile. “Don’t you worry. Even if the officials won’t help, I haven’t lived all these years with that cantankerous brother of mine without learning a few tricks. Andrew will think twice about what he’s done and go home to New Orleans where he belongs. We’ll have a party such as Memphis has never seen. Jacob and I always agreed, when the time came, we would have a party. The entire family would announce your engagement. He broke his promise to me when he gave you to James, eight years ago, and you can bet your buttons he heard about it. When you’re ready for a new husband, we’ll have that party, just as I planned. Andrew won’t be anywhere near the Chickasaw Bluffs when the music begins.”

“I love you, Aunt Portia. You won’t be upset if I wait a while before looking for another husband—if I ever decide to look again?”

“You take all the time you need, child.”

Lisette had never told Aunt Portia how abusive James had been. Lisette’s letters brimmed with lies, about parties and visits from neighboring women she’d never met. She described wonderful dinners and excursions into New Orleans from their country home, when, in truth, she’d been confined to the house, forced to clean and cook endlessly, with no word of thanks and only the barest necessities begrudgingly supplied. James had never been without money, but, during the eight years Lisette slaved as his wife, she lived like a pauper, along with his two mistresses, who also lived in the house.

When he died, leaving everything to his “beloved wife,” a term from a will written years before he married Lisette, she inherited everything, much to Andrew’s ire, and spent over three hundred dollars on clothes the day after James died. Thanks to the inheritance, she would never want for anything again, even without the Morgan fortune, but she had to contend with Andrew, who, without her charity, would be destitute. All he had was the deed to the family estate in New Orleans—and the expenses involved with running such a farm. Andrew had neither desire nor intelligence to deal with such matters. He had chosen, instead, to follow her to Memphis, threatening her security.

“Now, child, let’s get you upstairs to your room and out of that dress so you can ready yourself for bed. I’ll bring you a cup of nice hot chamomile and some teacakes I made today. Tomorrow, you don’t get out of bed until you’re good and ready. By the time you’re up and about, I’ll have them locking that scoundrel up and throwing away the key.”

“Wake me early. I’ll have to show them the bruises as proof Andrew struck me.”

Tears came to Aunt Portia’s eyes again. “If I’d only come downstairs sooner …”

“I don’t want you to worry. I know exactly how to take care of this. Now, off to bed with both of us. We’ll have dark circles under our eyes for a week as it is.”

“All right.
Do I need to bring a poultice for your poor face?” She touched her fingertips to Lisette’s swollen cheek. “I could kill that man for touching you. He’d better not show his face at this house again!”

Lisette hugged her. “I love you, Aunt Portia.”

“I love you, too, child. If you aren’t better by tomorrow, I’m taking you to see the doctor.”

They went upstairs. Her father’s snoring reverberated through the hall from his bedroom on the far side of the wide hallway. The room Lisette would occupy had been her parents’. After her mother’s death, Jacob couldn’t bear to sleep there, so he moved to the bedroom in the front corner of the house. Lisette’s nursery was directly across from her parents’ room. Aunt Portia’s bedroom was directly across from Jacob, so she could hear him if he called during the night.

Seth had put Lisette’s baggage at the end of the canopied rosewood bed. She tenderly caressed the sculpted blossoms on the cartouche-crested headboard. Her mother had loved this bed.

Home again.
At last. The tears which came now were happy ones.

“You have a good sleep, you hear?” Aunt Portia said quietly.

“I hear.”

“It’s so good to have you home again.”

After she hugged Lisette again and left, Lisette eased out of the soiled dress, knowing she would never wear it again, and dropped it on the floor in the corner. Rummaging in her bags, she found a heavy flannel nightgown trimmed in lace and pulled it over her head. She’d bought it along with the rest of the wardrobe. It felt heavenly, soft and loose. After wearing her corset all day, she welcomed something less confining. She poured water from a porcelain pitcher into its matching bowl on the sideboard. After cleaning and soothing her face with tender strokes, she slipped between soft sheets and pulled the heavy velvet patchwork quilt up to her neck.

Tomorrow, she would go to the top of the house, to her “secret room,” where she’d spent countless happy hours playing as a child, dreaming about growing up and about the man she would someday marry. That dream had been lost. Perhaps, in time, she could recapture it. At home, anything was possible.

She must have fallen asleep instantly because her next thought centered on sunlight streaming into the room. Not ready to rise, she turned over and drifted back to sleep.

The dream came softly, tenderly, and she welcomed it.

Chapter Three

David got to his office ten minutes early, feeling strangely restless. He hadn’t slept worth a damn—again. The weather mirrored his mood, morning sunshine overcome by low clouds, with rain threatening. The barometric pressure was dropping rapidly. Everyone seemed to be moving slowly—except for Lana, of course.

“Good morning, Lana.” He could tell she wasn’t going to allow him to be gloomy, and she wouldn’t let him escape to the back without a healthy dose of cheer.

“Morning, Doctor. Beautiful day, don’t you think? I hope you can make the barbecue tonight. Greg and I are going to announce our engagement.” She waited for his reaction.

This development was one reason David had declined Joe’s invitation. Lana hadn’t been able to keep it a secret, and David suspected everyone there tonight would already have been told too. Shawna was getting the gang together so they could make a formal announcement—and using the opportunity to goad David into making the same announcement about Candy. But it wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t feel like explaining his personal life to Shawna—again.

“I can’t make it, Lana, but you know I’m glad for you.”

“I know. We’ll miss you.” She went back to work. Her engagement to Greg would energize her for weeks to come. She was wearing red this morning, appropriate for her mood. The color complimented her brunette hair and brown eyes nicely. If her smile got any wider, he’d have to do some stitches.

“How does it look today?” He picked up the appointment book. Not too bad.

“We haven’t had many sick kids call in today.
Mostly routine checkups. If you don’t talk a lot, we should be out of here early today.”

“I’m not the one who’s usually talkative.”

“I know. At least that’s what you tell me. Ready for number one?”

“Give me a few minutes first.” He went to his station to look at the first chart. Debbie Myers.
In last week for a cold. Back today with a lingering cough. This shouldn’t take long.

Lana called Debbie. He spent less than five minutes, including hearing about Debbie’s part in the play they were doing at school which would require her to be in full voice, and was back out in the hall reaching for the next chart when he sensed movement.

Lisette stood at the far end of the hall in the shadows, blinking and frowning, just as she had at the dance, when he’d first seen her in the ballroom. He never took his eyes off her, afraid she might evaporate before he had a chance to speak to her. A ridiculous thought.

“Doctor Stewart?” Her frown eased.

David hurried to where she stood. She wore a long pink-flowered flannel nightgown with hand-crocheted lace at the throat and wrists and more than a dozen buttons down the front. She was barefoot. She stepped into the light and he saw her face. Her cheek and lips were swollen and discolored. Anger instantly boiled inside him.

“What happened? Come in here.” He led her into the examination room at the end of the hall just as Lana appeared with the next patient. He motioned for Lana.

She put the boy and his mother in the first room and came on back. “Who’s that?”

“Don’t call anyone else until I tell you.”

Lana tried to peek through the door to get a better look, but he stepped between them, blocking her view. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He went into the room and closed the door.

Lisette stood by the counter, holding a blood pressure cuff. “What is this?”

“It’s for taking blood pressure. Fits around your arm. A sphygmomanometer. Let me look at your face.” He had her sit on the end of the examination table, then probed her bruises gingerly, being especially careful not to hurt her. He remembered thinking, last night on the riverboat, how delicate her skin was and how a mere touch might bruise her. This had been more than a touch. More anger built inside him. “Who did this to you?”