Nan Ryan (11 page)

“I should have stopped her, should not have let her go to him,” he thought. “But she would never have held still for that, she would have hated me and that would defeat my whole purpose. I wanted her to find him, so he could turn her away and convince her he doesn’t love her. Which is exactly what he’ll do, if he has any sense. Then she can never blame me and she’ll hate him. I’m sure that’s what happened, but if so, where is she?”

The sound of horses’ hooves snapped him from his thoughts and Louis eagerly ran to the front doors, setting his bourbon glass aside. He threw open the doors and saw her coming slowly up the walk. He ran out in the cold to meet her and when he reached her, she collapsed in his arms, sobbing loudly.

“Oh, darling, darling, don’t cry.” He put his arm around her shoulders and led her up the walk. The look in her eyes terrified him; there was pure misery written on her face and it broke his heart to see his lovely daughter so unhappy.

“You were right, Father,” she sobbed, “Dawson doesn’t love me, he never did. He told me he doesn’t want me.”

“Oh, my poor baby, I could kill that man, he’s the most despicable cad I’ve ever heard of. Come on, sweetheart, let’s get inside and warm you by the fire.”

Louis led the sobbing Kathleen into the drawing room and helped her remove the long blue cape. “Here now, Angel, I’ll take care of you.” He pulled a footstool up to the fire’s warmth and gently helped her down to it. He sat on the floor beside her and took her hand. “Kathleen, I’m so terribly sorry, it’s so hard to understand. I thought Dawson Blakely was in love with you. He fooled me and I know how he fooled you. Tell me, darling, what happened, what did he say to you?”

Kathleen looked tiredly into the fire, “He said I no longer amuse him, that he is tired of me, that our relationship is over.”

“The nerve of that worthless scoundrel! To toy with your affections the way he did. He should be strung up. I was so worried about you, darling, you were gone so long. What happened, why were you away for such a long time? Did you have trouble finding him, is that it? You’ve been gone for hours.” His face showed deep concern.

Kathleen drew her hand away and gave him no answer. Finally, she rose from the footstool and said in a cold, flat voice, “Nothing happened. He’s gone. It’s that simple; it’s over and I never want to hear his name again for as long as I live. I’m going to bed,” and she left her worried father looking after her as she went from the room and wearily climbed the stairs.

Louis breathed a sigh of relief when she was out of sight. It was over. He had nothing more to worry about. His plan had worked perfectly. He had read Dawson Blakely correctly. The poor fool loved Kathleen so much he was willing to give her up. Everything was going to be all right. His precious baby was safe. Blakely was out of her life for good. He had his daughter back at last. Everything would be wonderful again. His eyes clouded a little as he poured himself another bourbon, “But why was she gone so long?”

Eight

Kathleen went to her room and, without illuminating it, stripped the clothes from her tired body and got into bed. Her head ached and her eyes were swollen from crying. She wanted to die, wished she would just never wake up. Dawson didn’t love her; he was going away. She would never see him again. Oh, but she hated Dawson Blakely. He was mean and cruel. How could she have ever loved a man like that? He had fooled her. He had made her think he loved her all this time; he had told her over and over again how much he loved her and how she belonged to him. Told her he wanted to marry her. “I despise Dawson Blakely. I’ll despise him until the day I die.”

Kathleen repeated these declarations to herself over and over. It didn’t work. It was no use. Bitter tears streamed down her cheeks as the face of her lover refused to disappear no matter how tightly she closed her eyes and commanded him to go. Her body arched up in her bed, still feeling his burning lips on hers, the knowing hands caressing every part of her, thrilling her with ecstasy. She relived how the lean, brown body had taken hers, possessing her completely, raising her outside the realm of earth, taking her away with him to float on the clouds of heaven, until finally they shuddered as one body while the crescendo of their love consumed them totally and produced a bond between them that could never be broken. “I hate him,” Kathleen cried into her pillow and longed for him in a way she had never known was possible before tonight.

*   *   *

In her small room at the back of the house, Hannah lay awake far into the night. She heard Kathleen come in, heard the lies her father told her. She heard Kathleen’s sobs and felt the heart inside her own big body breaking for the young girl. Should she go to her, tell her what she had overheard? Should she tell her Louis Beauregard was lying? Hannah shut her eyes tightly and tears rolled down her cheeks. How could she live with this terrible secret inside? Louis Beauregard would kill her if she told. Hadn’t he told Dawson he was doing it for Kathleen’s sake? He loved his daughter very much. He must think he’s doing the right thing. Hadn’t he always been kind and understanding, a good man? But what of Dawson Blakely? His heart was broken. Should I tell Kathleen and help her go to Dawson? Maybe Dawson Blakely isn’t good enough for Kathleen. He is poor white trash, though he’s done well and is such a nice, good-looking young man. Will she soon have forgotten all about him? I can’t tell her. I can’t tell no one. Won’t be long before she’ll be okay and, with Dawson gone, she’ll forget all about him.

Doubts continued to nag Hannah and it was a long time before she slept. When she did sleep, the slumber was interrupted by strange and frightening nightmares. Kathleen appeared in her dreams and she had turned into a withered old woman with snow white hair. Her blue eyes had faded and were dull and lifeless. She was shouting at Hannah, “It’s all your fault, your fault! You’ve ruined my life; I shall never get over him and now he’s gone. You knew and you let him go. I hate you, Hannah, I hate you.” Hannah awoke at dawn and shuddered and felt as though she had not rested at all. And that she would never rest well again.

“Louis, I’m so worried about Kathleen,” Abigail said to her husband at the breakfast table. “That man has been gone for over three weeks and she still doesn’t seem to be any better. She’s so pale and she’s lost weight. It has really broken her heart. What are we going to do?”

“Abigail,” he patted her hand, “I’m worried, too. I knew she would take it hard at first, but it’s time she started getting over it. I’ve tried to talk to her, but it doesn’t do any good. She sits and barely listens, no matter how hard I try to make her understand that she is better off without him and she’ll soon forget. I’ve begged her to come down for her meals, but she refuses. I just can’t seem to reach her.”

“I know. I tried to talk to her several times, too, but she paid no attention to me. Becky and Julie have been over to visit and she won’t even let them come up. She refuses to see them and we have to send them away with no explanation other than she isn’t feeling well. Perhaps we should get a doctor.”

“I’ve thought about that, but what could we tell him? That our daughter is dying of a broken heart over a worthless man she’s well rid of? No, we can’t do that. We’ll just have to give her more time. She’s young, she will get better. Let’s just not push her, let her snap out of it on her own. And she will. After all, she’s our daughter, isn’t she? Nothing will keep her down for long. Now, try not to worry, darling.”

“All right, dear. You know best.”

“Hannah, please take that tray out of here. I told you, I’m not hungry.” Kathleen frowned at her mammy. She sat in a chair by the fire, mesmerized by its flames. She still had not dressed, though it was mid-morning. She had no intention of dressing, saw no reason to do so. In fact, she saw no reason for living.

“Now, Kathleen honey, you gots to eat sompin, you lookin’ bad. Please eat jest a little,” Hannah pleaded with her, clearly concerned for the health of the wan girl staring into the fire.

“Why should I eat? I don’t care if I look bad or not. What difference does it make?”

“You don’t mean that, Kathleen Beauregard! You always cares how you looks, let me brush yo’ hair for you, then you put on a pretty dress and go downstairs for a while. It’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m not eating and I’m definitely not going downstairs. Can’t you get it through your head that all I want is to be left alone? Can’t I even have that? Is it asking too much for you and everyone else to quit nagging me?” Her blue eyes never left the fireplace.

Tears came to Hannah’s eyes and she looked down at the young girl. “No, honey, that ain’t askin’ too much. I’se sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” Hannah raised the corner of her apron to wipe her eyes and sadly left the room. The tray beside Kathleen remained untouched.

The pattern continued and no one in the house could reach Kathleen. She refused to leave her room. She went days without ever changing out of her nightclothes. Louis and Abigail became more concerned with each passing day. The strain on Abigail became too much and she took to her bed for several days. Louis was clearly worried and silently questioned whether he had done the right thing in sending Dawson away. He was afraid his daughter might have a nervous breakdown or that her health would be permanently damaged from not eating properly. Time and again, he went to her room only to be turned away by her cold, blue eyes and her pleadings to be left alone.

“Cap’n Dawson, let me in.” Sam knocked on the cabin door.

“Go away,” Dawson shouted and threw an empty whiskey bottle at the door. It broke and shattered loudly. Sam shook his big head and sadly turned to go. Dawson had been in his cabin for days. He refused to leave and when Sam asked him where he wanted the
Diana Mine
to go, Dawson hollered, “Just stay on the river. I don’t care where you go.” The cold black eyes never looked up. He sat at his desk, the small cameo pin in his hand. He looked at it by the hour and when he fell tiredly to sleep at night, the cameo was clutched tightly in his palm. He never shaved, he didn’t change clothes, he would hardly eat. The only thing he would do was drink. Sam never heard anything from him except when he ran out of whiskey. Then he would come to the cabin door, fling it open, and shout at the top of his lungs, “Sam, I’m out of whiskey! Bring me a bottle!”

“Cap’n Dawson, we ain’t got no mo’ whiskey, you drunk it all,” Sam would respond as soon as he was called.

“
I want whiskey
,” Dawson’s eyes glared at the big black man.

Sam would pull the
Diana Mine
into the next port and send a crewman out for more liquor. Knocking at Dawson’s cabin door, Sam would hold out the bottle and say, “Cap’n Dawson, I thinks you should quit drinkin’, you lookin’ bad, you needs to eat sompin.”

Dawson would glare at him, greedily grab the whiskey bottle, saying, “Mind your own business and leave me alone. I pay you to steer this boat, now get up there and do it,” and the door would slam in his concerned friend’s face. Sadly, Sam would return to the wheelhouse and steer the boat aimlessly up and down the Mississippi river.

“Sam,” he heard Dawson calling to him one morning at dawn, “Sam, come down here.” Sam hurried down the companionway, dreading the fact that he would have to tell Dawson they had run out of whiskey again. The door to the cabin was open when Sam got there and Dawson stood staring out the porthole. He turned when Sam came in and Sam saw immediately that Dawson was sober for the first time in weeks.

“Sam,” Dawson said in an even voice, “where are we?”

“Cap’n Dawson, we is ’bout ten miles nawth of New Orleans.”

“Good. Take her into port.”

“Yes, suh, does you want to stop and buy mo’ whiskey?”

“No, I’m going to get a ship in New Orleans, Sam. I’ve decided to go to Europe.”

“But, Cap’n Dawson, what ’bout yo’ plantation? What ’bout the boats?”

“What about them?” Dawson looked at him, bored.

“Wal, I means, what does you want me to do, I don’t …”

“Sam, I don’t care what you do. You’re in charge of the boats. Operate them. Sell them. Sink them. I really don’t give a damn.”

Sam’s big eyes looked hurt and Dawson regretted that he had been short with the gentle man. “Sam, I’m sorry. I’m not myself, I know I’ve been a monster. Please take care of the boats while I’m gone. You know as much about the business as I do. I trust you and your judgment. And Sam,” Dawson paused and sighed, “when I get back, I promise I’ll be better. I loved her, Sam, I really loved her.”

“I know, Cap’n, I know.”

Six weeks had passed and Kathleen still had not left her room. Hannah pushed the door open and saw her still lying in her big bed. She looked sad and miserable, but there was something else about her. Kathleen looked up at Hannah and the blue eyes held a pleading, frightened look. Hannah set the tray down and went to the bed. “What is it, honey?” Hannah knew she was different this morning.

Kathleen’s hands flew to her face and she covered her eyes, “Oh, Hannah, Hannah,” she sobbed. “I’ve got to talk to you, you’ve got to help me.”

“Sho, honey,” Hannah sat on the bed beside her, “I do anything for my baby, you knows that. Now, look at me and tell me what to do.”

Kathleen’s hands came away from her eyes and she looked at her mammy. “Hannah, I … I … oh, what am I going to do?”

“Honey,” Hannah was puzzled, “I knows you miss Mistah Dawson sompin awful, but you is goin’ to get better soon as …”

“No, Hannah, you don’t understand, it’s more than that. Hannah how do you … when can you tell … oh, Hannah, I think I’m pregnant,” and Kathleen threw herself into the arms of the big black woman.

“Oh my Lawdy, honey,” Hannah’s big arms came around the frightened girl. “Oh, my po’ chile, my little gal.” She rocked Kathleen while Kathleen clung to her and cried in desperation. Waiting until the girl’s sobs subsided, Hannah held her gently and stroked her hair, saying, “Hannah gonna help you, honey. Don’t be afraid. Ol’ Hannah gonna take care of my baby.”

At last, Kathleen quieted a little and pulled back. She wiped her eyes and said, “Hannah, do you know … is there someone in the slaves’ quarters who would … Hannah, help me, I’ve got to get rid of this baby, I can’t have it, I can’t.”