Whisper Falls (31 page)

“Jedidiah went there. He said no one was at home.”

I sighed. On the walk back from the farm, I had made up stories that would sound reasonable, but it didn't matter anymore. No story would be believed after what Jedidiah had witnessed.

I knelt before her and gave her a hug. “I have no explanation for my absence, but I am here now.”

“Deborah said you ran away. She said Papa hurt you so badly this week that you didn't want to live here anymore.”

“Your sister is wrong. I didn't run away. I wouldn't go without saying good-bye.” With the corner of my apron, I dabbed the tears from her cheeks.

“Did Papa hurt you too much this week?”

I wrapped my arms around her and filled my senses with the touch and smell and sight of her. One day, I would leave Dorcas behind, and it would be like abandoning my own child. The pain of it was sharp.

“Yes, he hurt me too much. I shall leave as soon as I am able, but you will always be on my mind.” I pressed a kiss to her temple and nudged her away. “Jedidiah has gone to tell your father of my return. You're free to go.”

“Is Papa coming now?”

“I suspect so.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Her voice shook with dread.

I smiled at the brave offer, knowing I would never accept. Whatever happened, I was confident I wouldn't want her to witness. “No, dearest. Run along.”

She ran a few steps, then turned and came back. “Uncle George gave us two slaves and a new horse.”

“Merciful heavens.” I gazed toward the barn but could detect no activity there. “Where are the slaves?”

“Frederick is young. He went to the mill with Papa. And Theophilus,” she said, stumbling over his name, “will tend to the horses. He has tall, white hair.” She fled toward the garden, disappearing among the cornstalks.

Once she was gone, the silence felt ominous. Even the birds seemed hushed.

I went to the pantry and reviewed the supplies with fresh eyes. How long would they last with two slaves to feed?

With a shake of the head, I forced my thoughts to the evening meal. Boiled potatoes would be nice with chicken.

As I peeled, I reflected on my first kiss, shared with Mark. It had been lovely. I would be quite willing to try again…

Shoes thudded on the floorboards behind me. Resisting the urge to turn and face my master, I picked up another potato.

“Susanna?” His voice was soft. Mild.

“Yes, sir?” I added another potato to the pile.

“Put down your knife and come to me.”

With reluctance, I obeyed, staying as close as I dared to the worktable, my breaths quick and shallow.

His hands gripped my wrists and tugged me closer. “My wife says you've been gone all day.”

To anyone observing us, it would've looked as if we embraced. I trained my eyes on the buttons of his waistcoat, repulsed by his touch, longing to pull away.

“I have been away a few hours.”

“Was the boy with you the whole time?”

I could truthfully say Mama had chaperoned us, but I didn't wish for Mr. Pratt to learn of Phoebe's rescue so soon. “Yes.”

My master laughed softly. “Oh, my lovely Susanna, you are determined to lengthen your stay at my house. I must say I am pleased.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“You break the terms of the contract if you are caught fornicating.”

My shocked gaze rose to his. “I have not done such a thing.”

“Jedidiah saw you kiss.”

“A kiss isn't the same as…” I stopped, unable to repeat the word aloud in my master's hearing. “It was only a kiss. Nothing more.”

“Jedidiah did not describe it so.” He forced my wrists behind my back and held them in the iron grip of one hand. “If Mr. Lewis ever trespasses on my property again, I'll have him flogged.”

I shrank away from him, hoping to put some space between us, but his hold was too tight. “Mr. Pratt, please let me go.”

“When I'm ready.” He lifted his free hand to my bodice and snapped a thorn that was pinning the edges together. “Perhaps I should see if your young man left any marks.”

Heat flooded my face. “He did not. You may take my word.”

“I place no value on your word.” He smiled. Snap, snap, snap. The edges of my bodice slid apart.

Before I could think of what to do next, he pressed me hard against the worktable, its rough edge cutting into my back. His fingers groped along my waist. The laces of my stays loosened.

Terror gave me strength. I kicked wildly, connecting with his shin. With a grunt, he moved, trapping my legs between his.

He yanked my shift and stays forward.

Humiliation filled my limbs with a sick weakness. I closed my eyes and prayed to be released from this waking nightmare.

He was silent as he inspected the exposed flesh, the heat of his breath brushing the tops of my breasts. My next prayer was to endure without begging.

“You have the plump tits of a cheap whore.”

I could hardly believe this was happening. For years, my master had played a game of wills with me. The rules were simple. If he beat my limbs until they bled, I suppressed my cries. If he whispered vile insults, I ignored their poison. If he offered praise, I neither acknowledged nor smiled. It was all part of the game.

But my body was private—the one line he did not breach. Until today.

He chuckled. “I see no marks on your flesh. Perhaps you've told the truth. Either he didn't caress you, or he's remarkably skilled for his age.”

I mustered my strength and kicked a heel hard into his ankle. He hissed in surprise, his hold on me relaxing. I broke away and raced to the other side of the worktable, my shaking hands clutching the edges of my bodice and the torn neckline of my shift.

He smoothed his waistcoat, then leaned against the kitchen wall, arms crossed over his chest. My gaze darted to the rear door.

“No need to flee, Susanna. Your body wouldn't tempt a man of breeding.”

“That is hardly comforting, since there are no men of breeding in this room.”

His air of calm shattered. With a snarl, he lunged for me. I charged toward the door, stopping short when his fingers caught my hair. In the space of a gasp, his mouth covered mine, his teeth grinding against my own.

“God help me,” he muttered against my lips.

I trembled so violently, I could hardly control my limbs.

Dinah and Delilah shrieked in the yard, their calls coming closer to the kitchen.

He shoved me against the wall and stalked a few paces away.

I held onto the door frame, teeth chattering too hard to speak, as small feet stomped up the wooden steps.

“Papa, Papa,” two little girls shouted, giggling as they burst into the kitchen.

“Yes, my pets,” he said, stepping between me and them, reaching down to tousle their heads. “Let us go to the house.” He gestured them out the door again and then glanced over his shoulder. “I hope you enjoyed your hours away, for they will be the last time you leave my property until your indenture ends.”

My head ached fiercely. I stared at him, trying to make sense of his statement. “I don't understand.”

“For this day's crimes, you will forfeit all freedoms.”

I didn't regret spending a day with Susanna in Old Raleigh, but it had cost me training time. So I made up for it with an extra-long ride in Umstead Park and Crabtree. But it soon became clear that it wasn't going to be a particularly good training ride because I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking about Susanna and our first kiss.

Not singular. Our first kisses.

While I was dating Alexis, I'd spent a lot of time wondering what she thought about making out and how well I was doing. It wasn't that way with Susanna. There was no sense that we were actors in a performance. Kissing her had been a natural next step. Part promise, part celebration.

The enormity of yesterday's events washed over me. What we'd done was huge.
Huge
.

Normal life seemed trivial by comparison. When my senior year started in August, the biggest problem I'd face was which teachers showed up on my class schedule.

It all seemed so stupid now. Yesterday had been real. Yesterday, we'd made a difference. A life-or-death difference. And I'd done it with Susanna.

Ba-bump
.

I caught a root wrong and went down—the cost of not paying attention. The extra-long training ride probably shouldn't be extra-long, after all.

As I circled around toward home, I cut through the woods on a barely visible trail. It came out beside Rocky Creek, heading in the direction of my neighborhood. I'd never ridden along this section before. What made me notice it today?

Based on my approximate position and the terrain, I probably wasn't too far from Whisper Falls. The lady from the Raleigh Historical Society had said there were ruins from Worthville in the park. Was I near them?

I secured my bike and went exploring, following the creek to the north. When I reached a break in the woods, I found a narrow, railroad-tie bridge over the creek. I crossed it, heading west. A few hundred meters away, a clearing opened—ten or more acres of grassy meadow with spotty trees. A bike track split it down the middle. This had to be the location of Worthville.

I tried to orient myself. Where exactly was I in the town? I relaxed my mind, taking it back to where I'd been the week before, the creek at my back, hidden behind a rise…

The meetinghouse should be dead ahead of me. I started out, walking slowly through the thick grass. I crossed the bike track and kept going until I practically stumbled into a row of stacked rocks. A second row joined it to form a sharp corner, looking more like crumbling walls than the meetinghouse foundation it had to be. A little distance away rested a dozen gravestones—the town cemetery. If I'd wanted to badly enough, I could've found the mill ruins nearby.

It was eerie. I'd been to this place when it was a thriving town. I'd seen some of the people who had lived here. And now it was a sad pile of rubble.

I'd come back another time when I wasn't on a training ride.

After returning home, I cleaned up and went downstairs to the kitchen. My folks were getting ready to eat. Grilled Atlantic salmon with roasted root vegetables. Yes, my father's healthy food fetish had taken over.

Mom waited until I was halfway through my first helping to launch her inquisition. “Did you see Susanna today?”

“No.” I took a sip of water and leaned back in my chair. From the look on both of their faces, I gathered this might take a while. “But we spent the whole day together yesterday.”

“Doing what?”

“Hanging out downtown.” So far, sticking to the truth was working for me.

Dad put down his fork and gave me a puzzled look. “I thought she was locked up on some compound most of the time.”

Wow. My mother did a pretty good job of keeping him updated on me. I couldn't decide if that was cool or disturbing.

“She is, so yesterday might end up being a problem for her. I won't find out for a few days. She's not likely to risk slipping away anytime soon.”

Dad frowned. “Where is this commune?”

Crap. Here came the balancing act. I had to give enough information to shut them up, but not so much that I forgot what I said if they ever asked again.

“It's near Umstead Park. I can get there by bike, but they don't like outsiders showing up. I tried once, and it was awkward.”

“Do the authorities know about it?”

I nodded and took another bite of salmon. Chewing was a good excuse not to speak.

Mom broke in before Dad could say anything else. “When can you bring her by to meet your father? I'd also like to take another look at that burn.”

“I'm not sure. We'll see.”

“She seems like a very sweet girl, which isn't something we can say about other girls you've dated.”

“I've only dated Alexis.”

“I know.” She gave me a pained smile. “Susanna is welcome here anytime.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I downed the rest of my water and pushed my chair back. “I think I'll go for a walk. See you later.”

I headed to the falls—not that I expected Susanna to show. It just felt right to be there.

Sunday wasn't much better. There was nothing to do. My parents went to church and brunch without me. I stayed at home and tried to dream up things to do.

I didn't bother with TV. It was stupid. No need to get on the computer, either. My invoices were caught up, and Carlton wasn't an option. I was bored.

Bored, bored, bored.

Cross-training might be good. I put on my running shoes and headed out on the greenway. I made a swing by the waterfall. Just in case.

She didn't show up all day. I knew because I checked at noon, at two, at six, and at eight.

Fourth of July dawned. It started out like a regular Monday for me. Ride, shower, breakfast. But there it diverged. Mom had plans for her guys that involved shovels, potting soil, and her English garden in the backyard. I didn't mind, though. It gave me something to do.

But it didn't stop me from wondering how Susanna was doing. Independence Day was something she had looked forward to for months. She might be bouncing around in a country dance right now, which didn't make me too jealous since there wasn't a whole lot of touching involved.

It was a gorgeous day in our century. We had a cloudless, Carolina-blue sky and enough of a breeze to blow around the neighbors's cookout smoke. My folks and I drove over to the lake house in the afternoon. Dad grilled steaks and Gran made peach ice cream. Once it got dark, we climbed in Granddad's boat and went out to the center of the lake to watch the fireworks.

We arrived home late, but probably Susanna wouldn't have come to the falls, anyway.