Princess Ces'alena (44 page)

The demand was simple; no one would be harmed if he did what they said. One man rode with him to town, while the others stayed at his farm, holding his family hostage. “I did it…I did what they said…but they — they-…” He choked up unable to speak for the racking sobs.

“What about the boy?” Charles asked, by then, Manny had stumbled back in shock against the wall.

The man shrugged shaking his head. “I buried the dead…I buried them all; the boy…gone - gone.” He repeated, and started weeping again. “Everything - gone…my whole family…gone…jus’ like that…” He slurred rocking back and forward until he landed forward on the table, passed out.

Manny exploded, “Hope!!! Hope?! There is no Hope!! There was never any Hope!!” He yelled the double meaning. “If he is still alive…that means the bandits have him, or he got away. And if either is to be true, where do we look now? Which direction do we go in? How in hell - am I to find him? That is…if he’s still alive!!” Manny argued; his face and eyes red and wet. He then quieted as if speaking to himself. “If my son is still alive, and they have him, what is he going through right now?”

“Manny, forget that. Let’s consider he may have gotten away.”

Eyes full of despair, wet and bloodshot turned to Charles. “Yes, let us do. Let us say he escaped. He is only ten years old – a young boy Charles; in an unknown city. It is winter - cold outside, damn cold. How is he to keep himself warm? Who does he know that will feed him? Hm? Who? Where is he to sleep through the long cold nights? Do you think he is properly dressed for this weather? Somehow I doubt it. So now, you tell me, what are the odds that he will survive?!?”

“Alright, alright…I see your point. But - as long as no body was found, then there is still the possibility he’s alive, Man-…”

“Charles, you may not understand this, but…I don’t know if I want him to be alive. If he isn’t…he won’t be suffering. If he is alive…it may be to a living hell. I cannot stand all that is going through my mind.”

“Manny, Mikey is a pretty nice size boy, he is smart, and I honestly believe he is a survivor; he is not a weakling. If he is anything like his father, somehow…he will survive. Because you can either go mad with worry over what you imagine is happening to him, or you can have hope and faith in him to be strong enough to pull himself through. Because as you said, we are out of options, we have no leads or directions left to go on.”

“That is so easy for you to say. It is not your son!” Manny returned aggressively. “My son should not
have to
pull himself through anything! He is just a child! He should not have to be forced to be strong! He should be with me, with his father! I am the one to pull him through! I am the one to be his strength! That is my job! I failed my son! I failed him! I swore to protect him! To never let any harm come to him! My son – could not – be sold! He should be with me! He should - he should be…..with me.”

Charles closed his eyes trying to deal with hearing his friend struggle with tears, as he fought back his own. They had been so sure…so hopeful that the journey would end with Mike back in his father’s protective possession. The silence in the room lingered until Manny leaned against the wall with his fingers interlaced on top of his head. “Now what…here we sit…what happens now…what will we do?” He asked softly, frightened. Charles eyes turned to him, and with his heart pounding in fear for what had to be said, he took a deep breath, blew it out and said, “We go home.”

Manny shook his head, “Just abandon my son…” Back and forth he shook it repeating. “Just leave him…just like that? No…I can’t…not my son…no.” He ignored his tears, he could no longer bother to wipe them away, he’d shed so many. “He could show up …somewhere…he could…it is possible…and I won’t be here, like – I wasn’t there – when he needed me – no - I can’t just leave him, I’ll never leave him again.”

“Manny, we’ve been gone from home too long now. It will take us a great deal of time as it is to get back. Sooner or later, we have to stop. You have responsibilities at Webster Fields.”

“F-u-u-u-u-uck – Webster fields!!! I don’t give a damn – about – Webster Fields!!! To hell with – Webster Fields!! My responsibility – is to – my son first!!! I want – my son back!! I want – my son… my son…” He bellowed and suddenly grabbed the vase with flowers in it next to him, and threw it against the wall. He cried out in a rage and snatched up the table the vase had been sitting on and slammed it against the wall over and over until it shattered into broken pieces.

Charles dodged him and stayed clear as he went crazy tearing up the room, shouting and cursing the entire time. He’d learned the hard way, when Manny lost it… it was best to leave him to it until he was spent of energy. He wasn’t about to try and stop him, so stood by and let his pain and frustration run its course. The hotel manager began banging on the door. Charles went quickly to it, opening it only a crack, refusing him entry as he explained, noticing other guests gathering at the racket.

“Everything is alright,” He whispered to him, with the manager trying to see around him. “Whatever the damage, we will pay for it, plus the inconvenience!” Saying no more, Charles shut the door in his face. Standing there, he noticed that Manny began tiring out, staggering and out of breath, he crumbled to the floor on his hands and knees, totally spent. He fell to the side, leaning against the bottom of the sofa he’d flipped over. With his knee up and his forehead leaning to his knuckles, he sat breathing hard and deep.

Charles came over and sat on the floor next to him. After a few calming moments, he told him softly. “We will stay, one more month. We will notify the sheriff that your son had been kidnapped - you understand…he is your kidnapped son. Do not offer any more information. If nothing happens by then, we go home-…”

“No.”

“Yes Manny, we go home…we will hire a professional. We are not cut out for this. We have no true tracking skills. It is out of our hands…we go home…you hear me - we go home.”

* * *

Lying on her side in bed, Lena nursed her toddler. Unconsciously stroking the large, silky golden curls on Hope’s head, as she played with her foot; holding it with her little chubby hand, tugging it, then releasing it to fall to the mattress while she suckled.

Every now and then, she would turn Lena’s nipple loose and look up at her mother, grinning with milk spilling from her mouth; as if she fully understood the story her mother fell into a habit of telling her. Lena spent most of her time that way, telling her daughter stories; some old ones, and making up new ones. Although a baby, that did not stop Lena from reading to her, or from telling her stories of Mike, and her handsome father.

Hope was her entire world now, and Lena cared about nothing else save her. All else could go to the devil - her main concern was the time she spent with the only thing there was left of her and Manny.

“Da-da-da-da-da!” Hope chattered happily.

“Yes, my precious beauty…oooh, mama loves you so much! Yes I do…you are the most beautiful baby - in all the world! Yes you are…yes…” Lena grinned as Hope babbled on in baby talk. “Now come on finish eating…” Immediately she latched back on; Lena pulled her even closer; satisfied in their little world… unconcerned with the happenings outside.

Kayleen, as well as Ruby, tried to get her to meet the new overseers and their wives but Lena was not interested in them, or what they were doing. In fact, she’d isolated herself from everyone. Every day, she made a point of carrying on about her business and jobs in the big house, but it became more and more difficult doing so with Hope growing. Mazie watched her in the mornings for Lena; who wrapped her child securely not to be seen by the new people at Webster Fields.

Often Jacob Weston, or Patrick Johnson would see the young woman walking with determined steps; her baby held tightly in her arms, covered in blankets for no one to see. Once her feet struck the path, heading in the direction they were aiming for, she stopped to speak with no one, not a glance, nor a smile or good morning.

Leaving Mazie’s, she would head to the mansion just as fast, head down, avoiding advances from anyone to befriend her. It wasn’t long before all those on the plantation accepted Lena’s withdrawal from them, and gave up on trying to entice her out to enjoy the house building for the new overseers and their family’s. The only persons she allowed to get close to her were, Leon, Kayleen, Jordan, Jean and Mazie. Even when it was shared with her, that the new family was having prayer meetings for worship…she still would not join the many other’s who attended twice a week.

She had all she needed, her daughter…who must stay protected at all cost. “There you go with that little foot again. Go’ta sleep little one…go’ta sleep. I’ve told you two stories after your warm bath, and still you do nothing but grin up at me.” Lena cooed softly. Again Hope turned loose, letting milk run out the side of her mouth. “My you’re messy little girl!”

Lena laughed at the glowing little face and bright, huge, golden eyes with tiny specs of blue forming a cross around her pupils. Suddenly she flipped over and started crawling away from Lena. “You come back here…where you think you’re goin’…get back here.” They began a tug of war across the bed, Lena would let her crawl so far, and then drag her back by her foot. Hope’s laughter was like music to her ears; a healing for her injured soul. Often she lost herself in daydreams of Manny returning, their son with him and everything would be back to the way it had been, but only one person had returned.

Katherine

Just as Kayleen said she would. She’d been back since December, and brought her mother along with her. Margaret LéClare had arrived from Europe to spend some time with her daughter, after not seeing her for so long.

It was hard enough for Lena having Katherine back, but now there was her mother to contend with as well. They were a constant reminder of how careful she had to be. While careful in all she did, from what she’d seen so far, Margaret was a pleasant woman; if only for the sake of appearances, she was very polite to all at the plantation, even Lena.

It didn’t matter, she was still Katherine’s mother, and Lena was determined to stay quiet and out of their way; unwilling to draw even the smallest amount of attention to herself. As for Katherine, her actions were as if Lena didn’t exist, and that suited both women. What did come as a surprise to Lena, was Morris’s order to Katherine to stay away from her, and leave her alone. Katherine had taken it upon herself to bring the news down on Morris about the “child” Lena gave birth to. That it had not been by his son at all, so therefore she had no reason to bother her.

Hearing that disturbed Morris, he’d come to the kitchen to see Lena about that, but something about her of late, stopped him. She was as different as was his son. He’d been watching her when she’d been unaware, and Morris had a problem with believing the child wasn’t Manny’s. After a bit of deeper thinking, he chose to stay out of it all and leave her alone. But if what was said was true, why was there never a man coming from her cabin? Why did she spend so much time alone with the child…that was supposedly not his son’s? Why did she not allow it outside to play as she had Mike when he was a babe? He remembered many times, she would lay him on a blanket in the shade as she sat next to him relaxing. Why not with this one?

For the first time, Morris did more watching than talking; more listening than ordering. Despite her losing Mike, she didn’t act like a woman who had moved on to another man; a new life. Within the grounds of the plantation, she was free to do as she pleased.

Yet she chose to do her duties, then lock herself in that cabin…never letting the child be seen, when she could just as easily bring it to the kitchen with her. Again, she’d done so with Mike. Morris was not a stupid man…and he knew the lengths a real mother went, to protect their child. Whatever there was about her he didn’t like, he would stake his life on his hunch…she had not been disloyal to his son. He would stay clear and leave it alone, but he was not one so easily fooled.

Besides, he was a busy man. Though he still went on his gambling trips and to card games…he spent more time with Jordan and the others. Getting to know the overseers and meeting their families. They were another group he had his suspicions about…once again however; he kept his own counsel and let things be. Now that Katherine was back, he spent time keeping his eye on her, and enjoying the company of her mother. It had been a long time since he took pleasure in the presence of a real lady. That she was and then some, he could only wonder how was it that her daughter came out to be the woman she was.

Life went on at Webster Fields.

At ten months old, Hope was already anxious and restless, keeping her mother busy. She was full of energy, running Lena ragged. It was impossible for her to sit still for a moment, she was happy to receive a big hug and kiss, but then she had to be on her way. She was also pulling herself up and walking along, using the furniture for support.

Lena knew a new challenge awaited her, how was she to keep her daughter hidden once she started walking? Her movements too vigorous to keep under blankets; winter hadn’t been so bad, but summer was at the door and Hope wanted out in it. Once again she was forced to place this problem before Kayleen and Ma’Nicey, they were ten steps ahead of her, with a solution in the works.

* * *

Katherine, her aunt Helene, and her mother Margaret sat in the living room drinking tea; it was late evening and Helene had been visiting most of the day. Morris had already retired to bed after visiting with the women briefly…mainly because he enjoyed the company of Margaret LéClare. She was so different from her loud butting in sister. Not since Royal, had he been so impressed. Much to Katherine’s displeasure…she suspected Morris had a thing for her mother, and it didn’t appear as if her mother was too put off by it. His behavior in the presence of her mother was totally different from the crude man she’d come to know.