Concealing Grace (The Grace Series Book 1) (21 page)

“Jon, what I’m about to tell you is highly confidential,” he said. “But you’re family now, and it’s important for you to know what’s going on in our community. It’s also important for you to be aware due to the number of colored folk working for you here. You must promise me you will not speak of this to anyone. Including my daughter.”

“Of course,” Jon agreed readily. Luther liked that about him.

“Do you remember the Ku Klux Klan?” he asked.

* * *

After leaving the dining room, Jessica didn’t go to her bedroom. She went down the back hallway to the kitchen. There, she found not just Martha and Ruth, but Herlin and Ditter, too. They were seated and talking around the big kitchen table, but became silent as soon as they noticed her.

“I’m so sorry for the way the captain treated you,” Jessica told them. “I don’t understand what’s come over him. I’ve never seen him this way.” To Martha specifically, she added, “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you when he pushed you, did he?”

“No, ma’am,” Martha said.

“Da cap’n be right attached ta dat Bonnie horse, ma’am,” Herlin said.

Herlin’s insinuation was that Jon’s grief was an acceptable excuse for his reprehensible behavior. As far as Jessica was concerned nothing could validate treating anyone so atrociously. She was determined to speak with Jon about it, to make him see how outrageous he was. She was going to talk to him about the horrid Sovereign Sons of the South, too. In her mind, the new name for the Klan was a ridiculous joke. They were the Ku Klux Klan and they would always be the Ku Klux Klan. As soon as her father and Arnold Whistler left, she would seek out her husband and give him a piece of her mind.

Before that, however, she waited unseen until Jon, her father and Arnold Whistler retired to the parlor for their coffee, or whiskey, or whatever Jon decided to serve. Martha and Ruth wouldn’t accept her help. The only way Jessica could think of to give it was to get to the task ahead of them, so that’s what she did. Through the servants’ entrance she sneaked into the dining room. Later, when Martha and Ruth arrived to clean up the scattered broken plates and food, there was nothing for them to do.

By the time Arnold Whistler and her father left, although Jessica was still upset, her temper had cooled considerably. It was better this way, because she knew yelling at Jon wouldn’t solve anything. What she needed to do was calmly reason with him.

She found him in the parlor, slouched in the wing chair he liked, staring absently at the fireplace. For a moment, she watched him from the doorway. She watched as he leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. She heard the overly loud breath he expelled. His sorrow was so blatant, compassion rolled through her.

“Jon?” she said softly.

He jolted in the chair and stood up so quickly she thought she didn’t startle him, she scared him. His eyes, as they met hers, were wide and glassy.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Did you eat?” He crossed the short distance and took her hands in his.

Jessica ignored his question. “Are you upset about Bonnie?”

Abruptly he let go of her hands and turned away.

“It’s okay.” Jessica reached out to him.

In the next instant he was holding her in a tight embrace, one that was almost too tight. Hoarsely, he whispered, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

It wasn’t the right time to confront him. Not when he was so obviously and so deeply distressed. But she would. She would discuss his dreadful behavior toward Ruth, Martha and Ditter with him later. She would discuss the Klan with him later. And later, she would remind him that he’d done nothing yet to repair the servants’ cabins.

“You’re exhausted,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

By the middle of the second week of her school, Jessica was quite pleased with the progress her students were making. All of the children, with the exception of Chelsea, attended in the morning. After lunch, big Willy and Oscar, the two oldest boys, went out to help their parents in the fields. Jessica was left with little Willy, Jacob, Vernon, Sadie, Thelma, Katie, Jimmy, Isaac and Chester. Of her charges, she was most impressed with Herlin and Martha’s son, little Willy, who seemed to pick things up quickly, but she felt sorry for Wally’s daughter, Sadie, who struggled a great deal.

Jessica realized right from the start that adhering to a daily schedule was important. And because they were children, her students had quite a bit of restless energy, especially after lunch. This was why, after they ate, she took them out to the lawn behind the kitchen for playtime. Skeebee was always a favorite among them. She taught them dance steps, too. Most often, however, they ran races. Jessica grew more and more creative with these, sometimes tying ankles together, or having them hold their slates on their heads. Once she had them lick spoons and stick them to their noses.

During these outside games, on the few days Jon was home, Jessica noticed him watching from afar. She still hadn’t had the conversation with him about his treatment of the servants that she wanted to have. Several times she almost broached the subject, but then she was distracted, usually by his lovemaking. That, however, was just an excuse. The truth was, she was afraid to bring it up. She was afraid how he would react. Since that awful day he put Bonnie down, he hadn’t said anything derogatory to anyone, at least not that she heard, and she was beginning to believe Herlin was correct. Jon’s vulgar behavior was entirely born of grief.

Still, it bothered her that nothing had been done to repair the cabins. For this, too, she’d come up with plenty of excuses on his behalf. The most plausible was that he’d purchased the necessary materials, but for whatever reason, delivery was delayed.

The times she noticed Jon watching the children at play, he was too distant for her to see his expression, but he didn’t seem bothered at all. Even so, she thought it was funny that as soon as he saw her looking at him, he quickly returned to his horses. He never mentioned it afterwards either.

More than anything, Jessica hated that the closeness she experienced with Jon during their honeymoon was fading. She hated that she felt stilted around him and that she had to remain guarded in the things she said. The only part of their relationship that was still vibrant was their intimacy.

Instead of allowing herself to wallow over the many emerging disappointments within her marriage, Jessica concentrated on the children. They needed a teacher who would give them her all. Because the morning sessions of her school were geared toward specific and individual study, she tried to keep the afternoons lighter. Once playtime was finished, she and the children returned to the kitchen for story time. Jessica enjoyed this activity especially, because while she read, little Chelsea often sat on her lap. Before she dismissed her charges for the day, while they were still seated around the big table in the kitchen, she played number or letter games with them.

That particular afternoon their game involved Jessica writing a letter on a slate and holding it up. Whoever called out the letter first would get a piece of licorice candy. She’d already given out several pieces and the children were giggling while they waited for her to write down the next letter. She held up the slate and Sadie, who rarely spoke aloud, yelled, “D.”

“No, stupid, dat’s a B,” Katie snickered.

“Katie,” Jessica admonished, “we don’t call people stupid. It’s not nice. We’re all learning here, and there is nothing wrong with making a mistake. We learn from our mistakes. And, if we keep our ears open, we can learn from the mistakes of others, too.”

Shortly thereafter, Jessica let the children go for the day. As she always did, she watched them from the window, running and skipping across the field toward the shacks they called home. This day, however, Sadie was well behind the rest, walking slowly with her head down.

Jessica ran out the kitchen door. “Sadie!” she called out.

Sadie stopped, but she didn’t turn around. It took a moment for Jessica to catch up to her, and when she did, Sadie tried to hide her face. Gently, Jessica drew the young girl’s chin up. Tears were streaming down Sadie’s cheeks.

Swallowing the sudden lump in her own throat, Jessica asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m stupid,” Sadie hiccoughed.

“No, you’re not!” Jessica said firmly. “You’re not stupid, and I don’t want to hear you say that ever again.”

“But Miss Jesska, I don’t ’member da letters. Everbody else ’members dem, but I don’t.” Fresh tears poured from her eyes. “I try. I look at ma books afta school an’ I copy da letters on ma slate like ya said ta do, but I still cain’t ’member dem.”

Absently rubbing her hands up and down her chilled arms, Jessica said, “Let’s go back to the kitchen, shall we? It’s cold out here. We’ll have a special school this afternoon, just you and me.”

“I cain’t. I hafta fix suppa for ma daddy,” Sadie said.

“You and your daddy will eat in the kitchen tonight.”

Sadie’s eyes grew round. “Oh no, Miss Jesska. Da cap’n’ll be mad. Nobody suppose ta eat in da kitchen ’cept fer Herlin an’ Ditta an’ Rute an’ Marta. Nobody!”

Jessica shook her head. “Today is an exception. We’ll go speak with your father right now. First we’ll stop in the kitchen and tell Ruth so she knows to prepare enough.” She put her arm around the girl’s shoulders and led her back to the house.

Ruth was there already working on preparations for the evening meal. “Wally and Sadie will be eating in here tonight, too,” Jessica told her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ruth said, but there was no mistaking her sudden apprehension.

Jessica’s ire began to rise. “Ruth, don’t worry about the captain. I will take care of it,” she said.

Their next stop was the stables. Wally was there, exactly where Jessica expected him to be. As she glanced around and didn’t see Jon, she assumed he must have left for one of his many appointments.

“Wally,” she said, “Sadie and I are going to work on her lessons this afternoon, so she won’t be able to make your supper. I’ve already spoken with Ruth. You and Sadie will eat in the kitchen tonight.”

Wally’s expression, like Ruth’s, grew anxious. Before he could say anything Jessica cut in, “Don’t tell me the captain will be mad. I will talk to him, and I promise he won’t be mad.”

Wally nodded, but he still looked worried. “How come Sadie ain’t doin’ her lessons regular time?”

“Sadie and I are doing extra lessons this afternoon,” Jessica explained.

“Ain’t she learnin’ good?” Wally asked. “ ’Cause mebe she cain’t learn an’ she should quit yer school an’ hep in da orchards like she were doin’ ’afore.”

“She’s learning just fine. I think it’s important for Sadie to know how to read, don’t you, Wally?”

“Da others are learnin’ betta dan me, Daddy,” Sadie chimed in.

“Not if’n she too slow an’ cain’t learn,” Wally said.

Jessica glowered. “Wally, your daughter is not slow, or stupid, or anything of the kind. I don’t ever want to hear that from you again. Sadie needs encouragement from you, not criticism!”

Wally took a step back at Jessica’s harsh tone and said meekly, “Yes, ma’am.”

Sadie’s eyes filled yet again.

“Sadie, please don’t cry.” Tenderly Jessica smoothed the young girl’s hair. To Wally she said, “I’m not angry with you. I just don’t want Sadie to give up. I assure you she will learn. If it means we work day and night, then we will, but Sadie will learn. She will be the best reader and writer of them all.”

Wally said nothing.

“When you see the captain, please tell him I would like to speak with him,” Jessica said. “I will make sure it’s okay for you to eat in the kitchen tonight. Come Sadie, let’s go back inside.”

Had Jessica turned around as she led Sadie toward the house, she would have seen her husband come to stand in the stable doorway. While staring after her, he said curtly to Wally, “You and your brat can eat in the kitchen tonight.”

* * *

The man in black rode fast, but he knew the moment he caught the scent of burning kerosene he was too late. A whispered curse escaped him as the scene unfolded in the distance. The Klan had Carl Robbins.

Countless times the man in black had warned Carl Robbins, and countless times he’d refused to leave town. The Klan had beaten him and dragged him, tied to a horse, to a field behind an old barn. There were more of them this time, at least fifty strong, all clad in their obnoxious costumes.

As he drew closer, the man in black saw them roughly haul Carl Robbins up and bind him to a post. Then they doused his sagging body with kerosene. Under Carl Robbins’s feet were bales of hay. Jamming his heels into Midnight’s flanks, no longer concerned for his own safety, the man in black raced toward them, but he wasn’t fast enough. Two of the Klansmen dropped their torches to the hay.

Carl Robbins cries of agony rang out loudly shattering the quiet night. Within seconds his legs were engulfed, and the flames spread rapidly upward. There was only one thing left for the man in black to do. As soon he was in range, he careened to a halt and carefully aimed. With Carl Robbins’s piercing screams ringing in his ears, he pulled the trigger.

* * *

It was early. Dawn hadn’t yet broken and the bedroom was still dark. Jessica was warm and cozy, lying on her stomach. She felt sudden coldness as the blankets came away and she shimmied closer to the mattress. The blankets soon covered her again and she murmured contentedly.

She heard Jon whisper, “Are you asleep, Sweetheart?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she replied in the positive.

Jon chuckled faintly as he moved closer. His torso was cool, his hand on her back ever cooler. Even his leg next to hers was chilled.

Groggily she said, “You’re cold. Where did you go?”

“Outhouse,” he said, and he kissed her shoulder. “Go back to sleep. It’s too early to get up yet.”

Jessica tried to sleep, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t Jon’s cold limbs keeping her awake. They were warming quickly. It was because she knew he wasn’t sleeping. He was lying there silently, unmoving. In time, she heard him whisper, “Jess, I need you. I need you.”

There was a funny, desperate quality in his voice that caused her heart to trip. She pushed herself up so she could him. “Is something wrong?”

“I thought you were asleep.” He covered his face with his forearm, hiding his eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Is your leg hurting you?” she asked.

He shook his head briefly.

“Do you have a headache?”

To that, he nodded.

“Let me help.” Gently she pushed his arm away, and began running her fingertips over his closed eyes, his temples, along his hairline, his jaw. She continued her tender caresses for a while. He had wonderful skin and such a remarkable bone structure. His overnight’s growth of beard was slightly rough, but she didn’t mind. Eventually she worked her way to his mouth. As she brushed the pad of her thumb over his lips, they quivered. She repeated the motion and he opened his eyes.

As he reached up and took her face between his hands, he murmured severely, “I need to know you better. I need to be part of you.”

Though she was puzzled by the strangeness of his tone, Jessica smiled and flopped over onto her back. “My body belongs to you. Explore as you wish.”

Her actions seemed to lighten his mood. Smiling quirkily, he disappeared under the blankets. Early morning sunlight shrouded the room by the time he crawled up her body.

His thrusts were heavy and deep, and he grunted with each one. He brought her to climax once again, and then withdrew without ever achieving his own. Still embracing her, he rolled to his back. Lying on top of him, wrapped in his warmth, Jessica rested. She was thinking, as soon as her sated body regained some energy, she would attend to him as thoroughly as he attended to her.

But then, because he was so quiet she thought she waited too long. He’d fallen asleep. She tried to rise to see his face, but the second he felt her stir, his arms constricted. His hold became so tight, she couldn’t break through. She couldn’t move at all.

“Jon, let me go,” she murmured.

He did let go. The second she was free, Jessica pushed herself up. Jon’s distress was evident in every line of his countenance. His eyes were tightly closed. Wanting only to comfort him, she tentatively touched his jaw, but he jerked like she slapped him. Unsure what to do, she asked, “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

His head moved on the pillow in what she interpreted as a nod. Raggedly he whispered, “Please hold me, Jess. Please don’t let go.”