To Whisper Her Name (31 page)

Olivia couldn’t remember Selene seeking her out before. And seeing the young woman dressed in her riding habit, she didn’t have to guess what she was up to. But the Harding sisters usually rode mares, not stallions. “Are you here to ride?”

“I’m on my way, actually.” Selene gestured. “Mary and Cousin Lizzie are having the mares saddled.” Her dark brows shot up. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.”

“Thank you, but I’ve got plenty of work to do.”

Selene’s eyes narrowed playfully. “You
always
say that.”

Olivia smiled and shrugged, deciding to let the comment pass unchecked. She liked Selene and felt a welcome and an ease with the older sister that she didn’t with the younger.

“The reason I’m here, Olivia, is because of Mother.” Selene studied her riding gloves.

Olivia glanced toward the mansion. “She hasn’t taken ill, I hope.”

“No, no. It’s nothing like that. Mother’s fine. She had a lovely time at lunch, in fact. Several of her friends whom she hasn’t seen in a while joined us for lunch. I arranged it as a surprise for her, and she enjoyed it very much. The conversation, the teacakes. All the ‘lady’s refreshments,’ as she refers to them.”

Olivia smiled but felt a sting at having been excluded. She understood why. She
agreed
with it. But still, the rejection stung.

“All the visiting wore Mother out though.” Selene laughed softly. “So she’s resting.”

Olivia nodded.

Seconds passed.

“I’ve been meaning to thank you, Olivia …” Selene averted her gaze. “For all you’ve done for Mother since you arrived. The war was hard on her, especially during Father’s imprisonment. But she’s much improved since you’ve come.”

Olivia warmed beneath the unexpected praise. “Thank you, Selene. But whatever I’ve given pales in comparison to what you’ve all given me. So, thank
you
, in return.”

Selene smiled, her gloved hands knotted at her waist. “There’s one more thing I wanted to speak with you about. Mary and I were discussing it earlier. Since Mother’s feeling so much better …” She bit the inside of her lip. “We thought perhaps we could do something special for her. Here, at Belle Meade. Something like the luncheon today.”

Olivia brightened. “That’s a wonderful idea! And you’re right, she’d love that. I’m certain Susanna would be willing to make whatever we wanted. The ‘lady’s refreshments,’ as you call them. And though I’m not very good in the kitchen, I’d help in any way I could.”

A shadow tainted Selene’s expression. “I know you would. And … that’s what makes this so hard.” Seconds passed, and she finally exhaled. “There’s no easy way to say this, Olivia, so please forgive me if I come across as rude. I don’t mean to, honestly. But … we’d like to invite women from town to come. Mother’s friends who may not feel comfortable accepting the invitation if they knew that —”

Olivia raised her hand, her face on fire with embarrassment. And comprehension. “Say no more.” She forced a smile. “I understand. Simply let me know what your plans are, and I’ll be certain to … be occupied elsewhere that day.”

“Olivia.” Selene reached out as though to touch her, then eased her hand back. “If it were up to me, I’d do things differently. But people are still —”

“Please.” Olivia shook her head. “You don’t need to explain, Selene. I’m fully aware of my” — her smile felt brittle to the point of breaking — “lack of social standing in the community.”

“But I know it’s not your fault, Olivia. I don’t blame you. I want you to know that. I realize you had no choice in whom you married. Which makes me realize how fortunate I am to have a father who’s determined to take the time to choose wisely. A father who loves me and …” As though just now hearing what she’d said — and insinuated — Selene halted mid-sentence. Color heightened her cheeks. “That didn’t come out the way I intended, Olivia. What I meant to say is —”

“It’s all right, Selene.” Olivia worked for a gracious tone, hearing the inaudible echo of the general’s attitude so clearly in his daughter’s voice. “Rest assured, I’ll help with the luncheon in every way I can.” She attempted a sincere smile. “Including making myself scarce that day.”

After Selene left, Olivia waited a moment. Then she walked the distance to the mansion, reminded once more that Belle Meade would
never be home and wondering whether she would ever feel that sense of belonging to Nashville or to any other place — or anyone — again.

When she reached her room and saw the envelope on her desk, the return address written clear and sharp, she knew she had the answer to her question.

G
iving Seabird one last rub behind the ears and trusting Uncle Bob’s diagnosis was right, Ridley rose from where he’d knelt beside her in the stall.
“Just give her time.”
Uncle Bob’s counsel returned.
“She just tired for now. Adjustin’ to bein’ with foal, that’s all.”

Ridley hoped he was right.

Reaching to open the stall door, he heard the plod of hooves behind him and felt a firm nudge on his back. He turned, and Seabird moved closer, nuzzling his chest.

He smiled. “I know what you want, girl. You can’t fool me.” He covered his shirt pocket where he’d tucked the remaining apple, and the mare sniffed and licked the back of his hand, then started in on his shirt. “All right, all right …” He quickly produced the treasure.

Today marked the beginning of Seabird’s fourth month of being with foal. Three months behind them, eight to go. “You’re going to be all right, girl,” he whispered, running his hand along the sleek curve of her neck. “So’s that foal inside you.”
You just have to be …

He closed the stall door behind him and headed in the direction of the servants’ cabins. Specifically, to the old barn that now served as a church on the first day of the week and a gathering place on all the others.

The calendar nailed to the stable wall announced September, but the heat and humidity hazing mid-morning insisted it was still summer, and he hoped church was meeting outside today. Glancing behind him toward the main house — a habit he’d developed over time and with purpose — he spotted the object of his interest rocking on the second-story porch, just outside her bedroom. He hesitated a full second before retracing his steps.

She was reading a book, he thought. But as he drew closer, he saw the stationery in her hand. She didn’t look up as he approached.

“Morning, Olivia,” he called up softly, not wanting to startle her.

She lifted her face. Her expression had a faraway, misty-eyed look. “Good morning,” she whispered, dabbing her cheeks.

Her voice was hushed, tranquil, like the first spoken words of morning. The image of her lying beside him in bed, her body warm and womanly, tucked against his, crowded out every thought in his head but one …

He exhaled, glad she couldn’t read his mind. And here he’d come to ask her to church. The irony wasn’t lost on him. What was it about this woman that caused him to react this way? He’d wanted to kiss her so badly the other day. But the surprise in her eyes — no, the
trepidation —
had helped him keep his desire in check.

When he kissed Olivia Aberdeen — and he would — he wanted her to want to kiss him back. Without reservation. Without fear. He was willing to wait for that. Or at least try. He just hoped it wouldn’t take long.

He stepped closer. “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

She smiled. “You’re not.” She held up the pages. “I was just reading.”

“Letters from a secret admirer?” He said it with a tone she often accused him of having. But the look she gave him made him wish he hadn’t. It also made him wish he could read whatever was written on those pages.

She stood, the fading creak of the rocker marking off the seconds. She folded the stationery and slipped it into a book in her lap. “They’re letters … from my mother to Aunt Elizabeth. Elizabeth and I came across them the other day.” Olivia glanced toward her room. “There’s a whole bundle of them. I’m reading a new one every day. To make them last.”

Ridley felt a tug down deep, knowing what it would mean to him to have something so precious from his mother after all these years. Almost like a visit from the hereafter. Looking up at Olivia, he wished now he hadn’t interrupted her. Yet the smile she gave him held welcome, and he decided to act on it.

“Would you care to go to church with me this morning, Mrs. Aberdeen?”

She eyed him. “To church?”

“It doesn’t involve a carriage or a horse.” He winked. “I promise.”

She laughed, moving closer to the porch railing. “And just where is this church?”

He gestured behind him. “Down by the servants’ quarters.”

Her gaze moved beyond him. “Do you mean … the Negro church?”

He liked the way she tucked her chin when she tried to act like she wasn’t surprised but really was. “Yes, ma’am. Uncle Bob invited me awhile back. I finally went. I’ve been a few times since.”

She leaned forward, elbows resting on the rail. “What’s it like?”

“Well, let’s see …” Ridley curbed a grin. “This is the first Sunday of the month so you’re in luck. It’s the third Sunday you have to worry about.” He shook his head. “I had no idea what I was getting into that day.”

Her eyes grew round as silver dollars. “Why? What on earth do they …”

Finally grinning, he enjoyed watching her disbelief give way to that droll look he already knew by heart, accompanied by that spark in her eyes he didn’t think he’d ever tire of.

She huffed. “After that, I have a good mind not to go, Mr. Cooper.”

“But you will.” He smiled up. “Won’t you?”

She smirked for a minute. “Will you be preaching?”

“Not hardly.”

“All right then.” She made a face. “I’ll go.”

Olivia sneaked a look at Ridley beside her, grateful for his invitation. Spending Sunday mornings alone had grown old, and the past few days — the last three weeks, actually — had seemed especially long. Her twenty-fourth birthday had come and gone days ago without notice, though it hadn’t really bothered her.

Aunt Elizabeth had been abed more than usual, needing to rest. For every outing the woman participated in, including the luncheon she’d hosted at Belle Meade, which had gone off without a hitch — and also without her, Olivia noted — Elizabeth required a day or two to recuperate. Olivia treasured the extra time together, reading and talking, but it had eaten into her time with Jimmy and Jolene. She’d missed teaching the children. Repetition was so important.

Plus she was feeling that internal clock — the one counting down the days until she would have to remarry — ticking ever faster.

She had yet to respond to General Percival Meeks’s two letters. But it was the letter from Colonel Burcham — the first of his missives to arrive — that concerned her most. The Colonel would be visiting Nashville toward the end of the year, around Christmas, he said, and he’d requested permission to call on her. The very thought made her ill. The Colonel was far too much like Charles for comfort, which made Percival Meeks all the more appealing.

“Not walking too fast for you, am I?”

She looked up to see Ridley a step or two ahead and hurried to catch up. “I’m sorry, Ridley. My thoughts were elsewhere for a minute.”

“I noticed,” he said, one side of his mouth tipping. “Anything I can do to keep that from happening again?”

Hearing the subtle insinuation in his voice, she thought back to the way he’d kissed her on the cheek and couldn’t help but smile. “Nothing comes to mind at present, sir. But if I think of anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Mmm-hmm. You do that.”

His boyish grin made her see him as anything but. How many nights had she lain awake contemplating what might have happened that afternoon if she had turned her head toward him ever so slightly at the last second. Oh, wouldn’t that have surprised him! Not that she’d ever do such a thing. She wouldn’t.

But it didn’t stop her from thinking about it.

She heard singing — and clapping? — before the old barn came into view. The song didn’t sound like one she’d heard before, much less in church. If she’d been alone, she would’ve turned back. But not with Ridley there, the man who feared nothing.

The barn doors stood wide open and, at Ridley’s indication, she preceded him, glad they were entering at the back of the gathering instead of the front. She paused just inside to let her eyes adjust.

So many people — sixty or seventy, at least — all crowded in together. A hodgepodge of roughhewn pews, overturned barrels, milking stools, straight-back chairs, and bales of hay served as seating. And every available seat appeared to be taken, as evidenced by the number of people still standing. A couple of them staring. At her.

She suddenly felt very much out of place and also very …
white
. It occurred to her that — with her past, with what had happened with Charles — she might not be welcome here. Ridley apparently had been, but he worked among them. The men, at least. And they liked him. She could tell by the way they joked with him in the stable.

Oh
. Her body flushed hot and cold. Why had she agreed to come here? If they asked her to leave, she didn’t know what she’d —

“It’s all right,” Ridley whispered beside her.

“I know,” she answered too quickly, standing straighter, not wanting her fear to show. “I just don’t know where to go, that’s all.”

Then movement caught her eye. She saw Jedediah waving them forward to a pew on the right near the front where two younger men were relinquishing their seats.

Head ducked, Olivia made her way to him. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Rachel, whose face was lifted heavenward, her eyes closed as she sang.

Thank you
, Olivia mouthed to both Jedediah and the two men as she scooted in, glad to have Ridley beside her — very close beside her — on the crowded pew. She didn’t know the name of the woman seated to her left, but she had seen her before. In the dairy, she thought.

Olivia smiled at her, and the woman smiled back, full and bright, nodding and continuing to sing. She had a pretty voice too — earthy and strong — and she swayed back and forth on the pew, clapping as she sang. Olivia tried her best to appear at ease as the woman rubbed shoulders with her again and again.

She also attempted to make out the words to the song. Something about having a robe, a harp, and … some wings?

No sooner had she figured out the words to the song than it ended and another began. Started by someone in the back. A woman! But Olivia didn’t dare turn to see which one.

This song was also new to her, slower than the first, and sadder sounding. No one clapped along, which made it easier to understand the words.

“Sometimes I feel discouraged,” the woman sang beside her, joining in with everyone else. “And think my work’s in vain …” An intangible ache that hadn’t been there before layered the woman’s voice. “But then the Holy Spirit … revives my soul again.”

“Thank you, Jesus!”

Startled at the shout behind her, Olivia kept her focus straight ahead, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. And if what Ridley had joked about earlier — about what happened in Negro churches — might not be a little true.

“There is a balm,” the people sang, their voices blending in a way
she wouldn’t have expected. “… in Gilead, to make the wounded whole. There is a balm … in Gilead, to heal the sin-sick soul.”

Olivia didn’t know what or where Gilead was, but her throat filled with hurt as deeply buried wounds ached for a touch of that balm and the promise it held. Yet even as the steady throb increased, she felt a pinch of shame.

The people gathered in this place had been wounded far more deeply and harshly, and for much longer, than she had ever been. They deserved the balm more. But … why had she never really examined that thought before now?

The song ended, and she took a steadying breath as Uncle Bob rose, a Bible in his hand, from where he’d been seated at the front. He looked out over the crowd as if searching for someone.

“She ain’t come yet, Uncle Bob,” a man said from the back. “Big Ike must still be ailin’.”

Uncle Bob hesitated, then gave a single nod. “Father God in Heaven …”

Olivia quickly bowed her head and closed her eyes. In the church where she’d grown up, men always announced they were going to pray, giving the congregation time to bow their heads.

“Lawd Jesus, we come askin’ for you to be with our brother Ike who’s feelin’ poorly.”

“Mmm-hmm,” the woman beside her murmured. “Heal him, Lawd,” she whispered.

Tempted to look beside her, Olivia kept her head lowered and her eyes to herself.

“Lawd, please be with our sister Susanna too,” Uncle Bob continued. “As she’s carin’ for him. Big Ike can be a mite ornery at times …”

A chorus of
amens
went up, softened by hushed laughter.

Laughter during a prayer?
Her head still bowed, Olivia sneaked a look over at Ridley as the prayer continued. Like her, his head was bowed, but his eyes weren’t closed. As if sensing her attention, he looked over and gave her a smile, then reached over and briefly squeezed her hand before turning back.

And that made all the difference.

By the time Uncle Bob said amen — along with everyone else, even the women — Olivia felt herself starting to relax.

Seconds passed as Uncle Bob stared at the unopened Bible in his hand. And Olivia began to wonder if he’d forgotten which passage he
was supposed to be reading. She’d always thought that would happen to her if women were allowed to read up front. Which they weren’t. For which she was grateful.