Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (30 page)

Then rethinking that, she would try – try hard – that’s about the best she could promise. Since she wasn’t kicked out yet, her husband dropped it for the time being, he was smiling and introducing her to his men. “M’darlin’ – you know Boaz…”

Her pretty bright eyes moved up to make contact with him, he nodded and smiled. “…and Rory – he’s joining us too,” Rory smiled and winked. “I’m thinkin’ I’mo have to keep an eye on that boy, he mighty forward,” Broc whispered to her, “…that man there, is Boaz’s brother Willard.”

“Ma’am.” Willard immediately responded, nodding.

“Them two there brothers as well, Angelo and Fidel…” Broc went on to introduce the two Mexican workers he’d hired.

“Muchas gracias, Seniority Wolf.” They greeted her, speaking simultaneously. “Last… Pierre.” The only white male he’d hired, he nodded as well, barely smiling. In fact, his mouth remained closed, with his eyes narrowed and cool.

“We’ll be headin’ out in a few more minutes.” Broc announced to them. Since they were going to be working for him, there was no sense in him keeping the truth of who she was from them.

If they wanted a job with him, security, it came without saying they would keep their mouths shut. Besides, once she joined him at their home, he didn’t want anyone thinking she was free to pursue. His wife was a stunning woman – he wanted all connected with them to know straight away, she was his… and only his.

The three turned away, Broc still carrying Asa on his arm, his other hand at Asiza’s back.

“Got somethin’ for you, think you gonna like it.” He murmured walking them back into the gate, up on the porch, they took up the bench seats there, Asa now sitting between them.

“Somethin’ fo’me?” Asiza asked, surprised.

Broc reached up in his shirt pocket and pulled out a gold ring, “Got this for you, try it on… see if it fit.”

She took it into her hands, obviously touched, looking from the ring up to Broc, “It goes on that finger, that hand.” He pointed to her left, “I hear married folks wear’em… see, got me one on too. It means I got a wife, you Asiza. Yours mean you got a husband, me.”

She slipped it on, but it was too big. Afraid he would take it back, she covered it against her chest, saying quickly, “I’ah keep it, I’ah fix it.”

“I had it fit to my pinky, still too big – ‘cause you got delicate little hands, little fingers – didn’t know they were that little.”

“Don’care, I’ah fix it.” Asiza wasn’t letting go of that ring.

“Maybe later, when I come to get you, I’ah get you another – so it fit.”

“Want this one, I’ah fix it, I’s jus’ fine.” She swore, staring into his eyes, she missed him. Missed being with him from morning until night. Missed fussing with him, and him putting his foot down with her.

The way she was staring at him, made Broc smile.

The way he smiled made her blush, lowering her eyes bashfully.

Grinning, Broc looked down at Asa, winking at him. He had been looking back and forth from him to Asiza.

“Lil’man…” Broc called to him softly.

“Yes Mr. Broc?”

“I’m gone have to leave you again, you and m’darlin’ Asiza. Try and keep her out’ah trouble for me.”

Asa scrunched up his face, scratching the back side of his head, squirming a bit, he confessed, “I – I’ll do my best – but – can’t be sure I can.”

“Just do your best, I know she can be difficult, but she ours.” Broc stunned the little boy by leaning down and hugging him, pulling him up to give him a good one. “Now gone inside while I say my goodbyes.” Putting him on his feet, Asa smiled, nodded and ran off to where he was told. Broc slid onto the space he’d abandoned, lifting his wife’s pretty face, palming each side to look into her eyes. “I’m goin’ – you fix that ring on you, hear me?”

Asiza nodded.

“Can’nah wait to see our land, I bought a mighty big lot of it – four hundred forty acres!”

“There’s woods, a river and maybe close by, a pond. Can’nah wait to get there – bought tools, axes and saws to cut down more trees as we need. Bought all the wood cut from the sawmill t’get started – plus ordered more – the same amount, they’ll deliver it.” He paused, staring into eyes intently staring into his, “Be good Asiza, try and be good. I be back for you, I swear I will. I know this ain't easy – but you can do it – I know you can.”

She was afraid to voice the promise out loud again, so nodded her head, hoping that her sincerity transferred.

A thumb tenderly caressed her soft skin, he leaned forward, kissing her forehead, her brow and lifting her chin – was able to make that gentle contact to her lips, ever mindful that there would be some watching them. He kept it short and sweet – sweeping his lips by her cheeks and to her brow once more before releasing her.

“You need anything?” He asked, before standing.

Asiza shook her head, not wishing to speak – if she did, she might waste her time pleading with him to take her with him – and she knew that he would not.

“Please don’t look that way ‘Seeza…” He whimpered – knowing full well what went through her mind. He had to go and stood, “Believe me ‘Seeza, your time here, really is fo’your own good. May not see it now, but you will later.”

He turned from her and was quickly on his way down the steps, and made his exit through the gate to his waiting horse.

Asiza stood, walking to the porch post, hugging it to her side – watching him leave. He looked back and waved at her. She gave a small smile and waved back. Making her smile bigger, was that young man Rory, he was grinning with all teeth showing, waving to her as well. Seeing him made Asiza chuckle to herself, Broc would certainly have to keep his eyes on that one.

Chapter Twenty

“At least you tried. If she doesn't open the door and speak to you, there’s nothing more that can be done. Maybe in a few days when she cools down – she’ll be willing to hear you.” Ms. Della commended Asiza for going to Emma Byrd’s room to apologize.

However, when Emma emerged from her room, it was to show the damages done. A black eye, bruised cheek, split lip and a tender nose. All she wanted to give Asiza was the evil eye, wishing the devil and all his demons on her. 

Because Asiza was trying to be humble, not be provoked, she quietly let Emma have a go at her. Enduring comments like, “Bein’ green o’how pretty I am, don’ give you ‘cause to attack me! The good Lawd gone get’you fo’what you do’t’me.” She promised, tromping off to stay clear of Asiza.

Even though Ms. Della might be right about staying humble and learning to ignore, she wanted no part of Emma Byrd. So much to the point that when more of her gowns started arriving, she put them away not to wear them. She went to Ms. Della and asked for a white shirt and black skirt to wear like everyone else. 

“All them pretty gowns, why you wanna wear what we wearing?”

“I’on want no how - t’be like Emma Byrd. I’ah wear’em when I get wit’ m’Broc.”

Ms. Della granted her wish. From that day forward - she wore black and white. Beautiful gowns and accessories arrived as they were completed and put away to be worn when she was with her husband again.
Seasons In Fashion
deliveries were constant with wraps, muffs and stunning drape coats for the winter. Regardless, Asiza only wore a plain black wool coat and matching bonnet.

A few weeks passed and the rains of fall came.

More than a couple of days of the down pour brought to her delight, a visit from her husband.

He arrived with the man Boaz.

Because they were both wet, and a bit muddy, they were shown around back – to enter from the mud room. Ms. Della saw to them, helping Broc and his companion with their things so he could make his way on through.

“She and your boy in their room, reading I suppose.” She smiled, informing him.

“Thank you ma’am. And uh, all is fine with her, no trouble?” He was hesitant to ask, but needed to be reassured.

“Mrs. Wolf is a positive delight here, things couldn’t be better.”

Broc visibly sighed his relief, “She’s – a good woman, but – there’s a way about her, some might not understand.”

Ms. Della smiled, “Mr. Wolf, there’s no need for you to explain your wife to me. I understand her much more than you know.”

Broc doubted that, she hadn’t a clue of what his Asiza was capable of, neither of them did. Regardless, he could see it in her eyes, that she was sincere in her claim –
that
satisfied him for the moment. “Well, I bes’ go on up, this a short visit, I won’t be long.” Broc returned, burdened down with his saddle bags.

“You take whatever time you need to visit your family Mr. Wolf.”

He turned and made his way down the long hallway towards the back stairs, nodding and smiling at the women he passed on the way, forgetting Boaz for the moment.

On the way up, he encountered a startled Emma Byrd, wearing one of her peach colored gowns. He merely nodded and continued on, never gave her a second look. That he could do such a thing left her wide eyed and stunned, she just knew that she was the prettiest woman in that house. For him to be able to practically ignore her, put her in an even sourer mood. Stomping down the rest of the stairs announced that loud and clear.

Back in the kitchen, Ms. Della had turned from Broc’s exit to his companion. When their eyes met, she was a bit surprised by what she saw in them. Also, she felt a strange sensation pass between them, a feeling she’d never felt before facing other men. Yet, Ms. Della was a lady, one who let very little in the way of unforeseen occurrences trip her up in her hosting duties.

“Well, it appears that Mr. Wolf is obviously taken with seeing his family, so much so, he has neglected to introduce us. I’m Ms. Della Anderson, and you sir?” She held her hand out to Boaz waiting for his response. On the outside, she was cool, calm and pristine. On the inside, she was a rattle of nerves.

He went to shake her hand, but then looked down at his own, and back up into her eyes, drawing it away from her, “I bes’ not ma’am – it ain’t been washed. Got road all on me – don’ wanna get none on you.”

Heart slamming, altering her breathing, she turned from him, swishing her long black skirt as she went, making her way to the wash sink, trying to sound normal, “I can fix that…” She worked the indoor pump, filling a bucket that sat there. Turning, she went to the stove and picked up the kettle of steaming water.

Mixing the two, she stepped aside, “Here you go, emmm…” She trailed off, it was obvious she didn’t know his name.

“Boaz…” He gulped, “Boaz Samuels… ma’am.”

“Very well Mr. Samuels, come wash your hands. Coffee, or tea?”

“Coffee… you don’ mind.”

“I don’t mind at all…” Ms. Della replied and went about preparing him his choice. He was a man that was pure chocolate in his coloring - his skin – silky. His eyes - the kind that you could look into and forget your words.

Smiling, Ms. Laney, who spent more time in the kitchen than anyone because she baked and cooked and brewed – basically taking care of all – this time, saw the need to leave Ms. Della to it.

She too was a runaway from the south, had been there for years. A woman in her late fifties, she’d had more than a few children, all taken from her and sold. After the last one was taken from her – she woke in the middle of the night, and just started walking. To that day, she couldn’t say how long she had walked, how many days she’d gone missing from the plantation. She had no way of explaining why she hadn’t been chased down by her master, in fact – she wasn’t sure who he was. This was the indication that along the way, somehow, she’d lost her mind. Not only did she not remember her master, she couldn’t remember her name, the one she had before Ms. Della and her father found her.

Until she remembered, Ms. Della had taken to calling her Laney for some reason. Even so, it stuck. Since then, she had become a permanent fixture there at the boarding house.

Seeing to everything that had anything to do with meals, drink and the kitchen. Leaving it for now, Ms. Laney, couldn’t wait to tell the others what she suspected. It looked as if finally, Della had met a man who caught her eye. A tall, strong and strapping male – by the looks of which, if the two came together, there would be babies in no time. Yep, finally it would seem, that Ms. Della’s day had come, because that Mr. Samuels, hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her.

The way his eyes were eating her up, it very well could be. The way they all loved Della – everyone would do whatever it took, to see her have a happy ending.

Upstairs, Asiza and Asa were taking turns reading. She was making steady improvements – reading more fluidly every day. With the rain pouring outside, it was perfect weather for cozying up and reading. Day by day, Asiza and Asa grew closer. Little by little, she was learning the story, the horror of his past and what lead to him being in the hands of the man she witnessed abusing him on that street in the south they’d departed.

His parents had been abolitionists. Free, educated, and among others - a group of whites who’d come south to teach, free and transport slaves north. There had been a group of eight. They thought there would be safety in numbers. This had come out of Asa, thru nightmares, and finally confiding in Asiza.