To Whisper Her Name (37 page)

“Please allow me to extend my condolences, ma’am, for the pain you must be enduring upon your husband’s passing.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pagette. You’re most kind.” But his sincerity cut her to the quick. She wanted to tell him he needn’t feel badly for her, that she hadn’t loved her husband. But such honesty with a stranger hardly seemed proper. And yet, this man hardly seemed like a proper stranger.

“Pardon me for rushing our conversation, Mrs. Aberdeen. But I have another appointment to make yet this afternoon. Dare I presume your pursuit of me pertains in some way to my discussion with General Harding?”

“Yes, sir. It does.”

He waited.

Contemplating what she was about to propose, Olivia felt her pulse kick up a notch. “It’s about … starting a freedmen’s school.”

He sighed. “I sensed you felt badly for me in that regard. But I knew the odds of the general granting my petition weren’t in my favor when I came here. So his disposition on the topic — as cool as an iceberg, you might say — wasn’t surprising. Still … I had to try.”

“Mr. Pagette?” She took a deep breath. “If you had a building in which to meet, would you be able to start the school?”

He studied her for a moment, and she could see his thoughts churning.

“A place to meet is necessary, of course, ma’am. But the bureau also needs to find a teacher. Then there’s the business of books, which are quite expensive and —”

“If you had a teacher” — Olivia felt a quickening inside her — “and if that teacher somehow found a way to provide books …”

Gradual understanding deepened his gaze. But to her surprise, he shook his head.

“No, ma’am.
No
… The bureau would never agree to that. Nor would I.”

“But why? I’m capable of —”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be for you, Mrs. Aberdeen? A white woman? Teaching freedmen? Just last week, a male teacher in Memphis was beaten almost to death. Pardon my
candor — and I don’t mean to offend you — but you think the city of Nashville shunned you over what your husband did?” He looked down at the ground, then back up. His eyes were fierce. “Taking into account current public opinion, they’d likely do to you what they did to him, if they ever found out.”

Olivia fought back a shudder, the images of Charles’s body burned into her mind. “Then, we’ll make sure they don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, ma’am. I’m not unaware that your personal …” He clenched his jaw tight as if trapping the words before they leaped free. But Olivia could guess at what he’d been about to say, and considering what she was proposing, she felt it important for him to know the truth.

Surprisingly, her voice came smooth and strong. “Mr. Pagette, since we’re speaking with candor …” Seconds passed. He nodded. “You offered your condolences a moment ago on my late husband’s passing, and I appreciate them. But it always feels so false to respond with ‘thank you,’ as etiquette demands, when my feelings are … quite the opposite. The truth is, I haven’t suffered as greatly in my late husband’s death as I did while he was living.”

The lack of surprise in Mr. Pagette’s expression revealed she’d guessed correctly.

“I appreciate your honesty, Mrs. Aberdeen, and will certainly keep your confidence. When I stated that I didn’t know your husband personally, that was true. But I did know personally of his dealings, more so than the newspapers reported. And …” A sheepish, almost regretful expression swept his face. “It’s not difficult for me to imagine what a woman such as yourself might have suffered at the hand of such a man. And since we’re being so honest …” He smiled. “It was
that
pain for which I was truly offering my condolences moments ago.”

Olivia slowly returned his smile. “So we’ve come full circle then, Mr. Pagette.”

Neither spoke for a moment. A cool breeze rustled the trees lining the road, and Olivia caught the first sure hint of fall on its wings.

“I realize you suffered at the hand of your husband, Mrs. Aberdeen. And for that, I’m deeply sorry. But you’ve lived a sheltered life in comparison to what these recently freed —”

“I know that, sir. Though I didn’t know it … until coming here. And until …” Her throat tightened. She motioned past him. “Until going to church there.”

He glanced behind him, then turned back. “
That’s
where
you
go to church, ma’am?”

She nodded. “They welcomed me … when no one else would. I’m already teaching two of the children. They’re very bright. They’re learning to read and write. We’ve started arithmetic now too.” She told him about how Jimmy stood up in church the previous week and read a series of verses they’d practiced. But she could tell he wasn’t impressed. “What I’m saying to you, Mr. Pagette, is that I’d appreciate the opportunity to at least be considered as a teacher for a freedmen’s school.”

A moment passed, and she felt her hope passing with it.

He glanced back in the direction from which she’d come. “How will General Harding feel about your teaching, ma’am?”

“I … hadn’t planned on telling him. But remember,” she hastened to add, “he said himself he wouldn’t stand in the way of it. Only that he couldn’t be party to it. And one thing I would insist on, out of respect for him — and I
do
respect him, Mr. Pagette, even though I don’t agree with him on this issue — is that the school could not be on Belle Meade property.”

Mr. Pagette looked off in the distance. “A freedmen’s school burned over in Alabama last month. Killed fourteen people. Most of them children. If anything like that were to happen to you, the daughter of a trusted friend …” He turned back. Emotion lent a sheen to his eyes, and Olivia felt the same in hers.

“And yet,” she whispered, “these people deserve the right to learn. To have the chance to improve their lives.”

“I agree,” he said softly.

“So please, sir … Let me help them learn. Allow me to have a … meaningful purpose for my life again.”

She searched his expression and saw compassion and gratitude, along with his struggle. But no clear answer.

He climbed into the carriage and gripped the reins. “You’re a brave woman, Mrs. Aberdeen.”

“No, sir. I’m nothing of the sort. I simply know what it’s like to live under someone else’s rule. Then to have a taste of freedom. However briefly.”

Mr. Pagette looked beyond her, toward the mansion. “Even a brief taste of freedom is a powerful thing, isn’t it, ma’am?” He released the brake but held the reins taut. “I’ll contact you again, Mrs. Aberdeen.
Though, it may be a month or so. And it will definitely be through someone else. A trusted third party. It’s best for you if we aren’t seen together. Do you understand?”

Olivia nodded, already wondering who that third party would be. Susanna, perhaps. Or Jedediah. Even Uncle Bob.

“The fewer people who know about this, ma’am, the better. But from what I’ve learned about you, Mrs. Aberdeen, I’d wager you know how to keep a secret.”

“Yes, Mr. Pagette. Keeping secrets is something I do very well.”

N
o sooner had Ridley started hitching Old Gray to the miniature cart, than he spotted Olivia coming from the mansion. She paused on the front porch to speak with Mrs. Harding and Mary, who were seated in rockers.

He still had no idea what had changed Olivia’s mind about taking the extra work for the quarries, but he intended to pry it out of her. Whatever her reasons, he applauded her willingness to give the horse cart a try.

While he was glad to see her facing her fear, he was hesitant because it meant they’d be spending more time together. Something he’d once thought he would never get enough of. But after what she’d said to him that afternoon a couple of weeks ago —
What I’m trying to say is you’re an honest man … You always tell the truth … Those are qualities I greatly admire
— he’d gotten a glimpse of the man she thought he was. Her words, spoken with such sweetness, haunted him, burning a hole in his conscience and making the time they
did
spend together increasingly uncomfortable for him.

Thankfully, they’d both been busy in recent days. Her with something Mrs. Harding was working on for a women’s committee, she said, plus teaching Jimmy and Jolene. And his own days began well before dawn and often went late into the night. What with the fall harvest, training the yearlings, the recent races at Burns Island track, and working with the stallions, he had more on his plate than he could manage.

And even though he knew it was probably best they see less of each other …

He missed her.

It was so easy for him to lose himself with her. To enjoy the moment, her laughter, her smile, and the way she sometimes looked at him. And of course, he always enjoyed looking at her. He’d made it no secret that he was leaving for the Colorado Territory after the yearling sale, and she’d made it no secret that the Colorado Territory was the last place on earth she’d ever like to be. So, that pretty much left them at odds with each other. Only,
at odds
did not describe his feelings for Olivia Aberdeen. Or what he felt right now as she leaned down to give Mrs. Harding a hug, the comely shape of her bustle drawing his eye. And what about the churning he felt each time he imagined leaving her when he headed west in a few short months?

“Lots goin’ on up at the big house this mornin’, Ridley?”

Hearing Uncle Bob behind him — and not missing the man’s playful sarcasm — Ridley went back to work hitching up Old Gray. “Not that I know of. Why?”

Uncle Bob wiped his hands on his apron. “Oh … I don’t know. Just seemed like you was enjoyin’ the view.”

Ridley shook his head. “Not at all. I was just … checking those clouds.” He motioned. “Think we might be in for some rain later today.”

“Mmm-hmm. Checkin’ them clouds. That’s what I thought you was doin’.”

Ridley smiled and pulled a strap through the harness, then secured it. “But what if I
was
… enjoying the view, as you said? Would that be so wrong?”

He looked over, expecting to see Uncle Bob’s customary grin. But the man wasn’t even close to smiling.

Ridley straightened. “Something wrong?”

Uncle Bob glanced toward the house, then back. “This ain’t none of my business, sir. That’s why I ain’t said nothin’ up to now.”

His curiosity roused, Ridley eyed him. “What are you talking about? Up to now …?”

Uncle Bob scratched his whiskered chin. “White folks,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes they talk ‘round us. Almost like they forget we’s even in the room.”

Ridley got a funny feeling, like he was about to hear something he wasn’t going to like. And the solemnity of Uncle Bob’s gaze confirmed it.

“Word is, Ridley … The general’s plannin’ on marryin’ her off to
one of his war buddies. Whichever one makes the best match. I hear tell he’s already got an officer in mind.”

Ridley had trouble hiding his surprise on two levels. First Uncle Bob had picked up on his feelings for Olivia … He thought he’d done a fairly good job of masking all that. But Ridley didn’t know which surprised him more — Uncle Bob’s perceptiveness or that General Harding had taken the fatherly role upon himself to find Olivia another husband long before her mourning period would end.

“I’m guessin’ she ain’t said nothin’ ‘bout all this to you yet, sir.”

“No.” Ridley glanced back toward the house and saw Olivia walking toward them, still some distance away. She waved, and he waved back. “She hasn’t.”

“I don’t know if I’s right or not in tellin’ you that. But I figured if it was me in your shoes, I’d wanna know.”

Ridley nodded, not liking the sour feeling creeping up on him inside. It wasn’t as if he’d never thought of Olivia marrying again someday. She was young, beautiful, intelligent. What man wouldn’t want her for his wife? It was just that he didn’t
like
thinking about it, so he chose not to. Most of the time. Except for now. When he couldn’t think of anything else, thanks to Uncle Bob. And General Harding.

“There’s somethin’ else, sir. Somethin’ I need to ask you.”

Ridley looked over, not liking the caution in Uncle Bob’s voice.

“You ain’t said nothin’ to her, have you? ‘Bout the war or which side you —”

“No.” Ridley shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t endanger your position here at Belle Meade. Or with the general. You can trust me on that, Uncle Bob.”

Uncle Bob nodded. “Only reason I’m askin’ is ‘cause … if you
was
to start …
enjoyin’ that view
, sir, then it’d only be right to tell her. It’s true, she ain’t thought of too highly right now by folks in town, but she also ain’t just
some woman
either. She’s a proper lady, livin’ here under the charge of General William Giles Harding, and she —”

“I know who she is, Uncle Bob.” The words came out harder than he’d intended. He sighed. “What I mean is …” He offered a placating nod, the truth twisting his gut like a knife. “I understand what you’re saying.”

Uncle Bob walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “That was me talkin’ to you like the head hostler at Belle Meade Plantation and a worker for the general. But this is me talkin’ to you like a man.” He
squeezed Ridley’s shoulder. “If that woman was to chose you, sir, she couldn’t chose no better.”

Ridley heard the creak of the gate, then the rustle of a skirt, and Uncle Bob glanced beyond him.

“Mornin’ there, Missus Aberdeen.”

As Uncle Bob greeted Olivia, Ridley finished hitching up Old Gray, working out a knot in the reins, as well as in his gut.

Fifteen minutes later, Ridley still hadn’t managed to coax Olivia into the cart, and he was all but ready to give up. “Olivia … do you want to do this or not?”

“Yes, I want to do it. I’m just …” She put a hand to her stomach. “The cart is so close to the horse. I just need another minute to …”

He started unhitching Old Gray.

“Wait!” She tugged at his sleeve. “Why are you so impatient today?”

“Impatient?”
Ridley exhaled a laugh. “I’ve been standing here waiting, watching you walk back and forth, picking at your skirt and then your hair, talking about this and that. Just get in the cart, Olivia. Before Old Gray dies of old age. And me along with him.”

Her mouth fell open. “I can’t believe you just said that to me. You know how I feel about horses. I’m just a little more nervous about this than I thought I’d be, but —”

“I understand. But that’s why it’s best to just do it. Just take a deep breath and get in.”

She eyed Old Gray. “What if he strikes off across the pasture like Copper did that day?”

“If this decrepit gelding strikes off anywhere, I’ll douse Uncle Bob’s hat with Susanna’s gravy and eat it for lunch.” Tempted to smile at the look on her face, he didn’t. He remembered how her late husband had pressured her to ride a stallion and knew he was taking a similar tactic. Only, the chances of Olivia getting hurt doing this were next to nothing. And riding in this cart — so close to the horse — was a definite step in the right direction. “Now, please … get in the cart.”

“Ridley,” she whispered. “I really want to do this, but —”

“I’m going to count to three, then I’m putting Old Gray out to pasture. Literally. One —”

“Ridley, please, I just —”

“Two —”

“This isn’t very gentlemanlike behav —”

“Three!”

Giving him a scathing look, Olivia stepped into the cart, sat down, and gripped the edge of the seat, then stared at the back of the horse as if the animal might turn on her at any moment.

Ridley climbed in beside her. “See? That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Feeling a little guilty about pressuring her, yet knowing she could do this — and would be glad about it later — he gathered the reins and released the brake.

He was taking out his frustration on her when really he was frustrated with himself. Why he’d ever allowed his feelings for this woman to grow into what they were, he didn’t know. Caring about her the way he did, wanting her like he did — even now, with her wedged up beside him.
Very
close beside him. Turns out the miniature cart was probably better suited for one person than two. Not that he was complaining.

Old Gray sidestepped — or tried to — and the cart rocked.

“Ridley, I think I’m going to be sick.”

He curbed a grin. “That’s fine. Just lean over your side.”

She nudged him hard with her shoulder. “You’re mean today.”

That
made him smile. This woman could go from sweet to sassy in nothing flat. And he loved that quality about her. Just like he loved all the rest. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I don’t mean to be
mean
. I just have a lot to do and —”

“Well, if you don’t have time today, then …” She started to get out, but he quickly reached across the short bench.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re not getting out of here until we’ve taken a turn around the meadow.”

Looking more rebellious now than scared, she exhaled.

“You ready?”

She gave the faintest nod. He seized the moment and slapped the reins. And Old Gray set off. At a snail’s pace. Yet with the way Olivia held on, watching Old Gray’s every move, one would’ve thought they were rounding the final turn at Burns Island track.

As the ancient gelding took them around the meadow, Ridley was certain he could’ve counted every blade of grass if he’d wanted to. But he didn’t mind too much. He enjoyed being with the woman beside him.

A late-October breeze bowed the knee-high grasses feathering the pasture and stirred the sweet scent of sunshine through wild-flowers dotting the meadow. The soft
whoosh
of wind through the field grass reminded him of the faint echo of waves from home, and in his memory, he caught a whiff of ocean and sand. A pang of homesickness hit him hard. That happened from time to time, and he guessed it would always be that way.

Instinctively, he reached for the seashell in his pants pocket, but sitting so close to Olivia, he quickly gave up the idea. She shifted beside him and her thigh rubbed the length of his, sending heat like the dog days of summer spiking right through him. He tried to move over, but there was nowhere to move. Why on earth had he made this bench so doggone narrow? Every time Olivia moved, her thigh brushed his. If she didn’t stop shifting around, he was going to have to get out and walk. Either that or burn alive.

Needing to think about something else, he peered over at her. “May I ask you a question?”

She nodded, her grip on the seat easing.

“What made you change your mind? About taking this extra job at the quarries? And what about being even closer to a horse?”

She looked out across the pasture. “Several things. Aunt Elizabeth, for one. A while back” — the cart hit a gopher hole, but Olivia only gave a fleeting frown — “she and I were talking. And she told me about their son … Nathaniel. Who died,” she added softly, “just before his tenth birthday.”

Ridley listened as she spoke, but he also watched as her body relaxed against him. He’d noticed that about her before. If he could get her talking, or maybe sparring with him, she would all but forget her nervousness about horses.

“So,” she continued, “I figured if Aunt Elizabeth — after losing a son that way — could be around horses again, then surely I should be able to as well.” Ridley nodded. He hadn’t known that about the Hardings. “It’s odd, isn’t it?” She brushed a strand of hair from her face. “How learning about someone else’s past and what they’ve been through makes you look at your own life so differently? I’ve felt the same way sometimes on Sunday morning when …” She looked around. “We left the pasture?”

Ridley smiled. “I wondered when you were going to notice.”

He guided the cart down the long driveway they’d first walked up
together months ago, their conversation coming easily, like it always did. Enjoying the time together, he guided it back to where they’d started, set the brake, and helped her out.

“That wasn’t so scary after all, was it?”

“At first, yes. In the end …” She pretended to have to think hard. “No.” Her eyes lit from within. “Much as it pains me to say this to you, I rather enjoyed it. Thank you, Ridley.”