Vivid stood there, stunned. Next to her, Nate removed his spectacles, rubbed his eyes a moment, then said, "I'll see you folks later," and went back to the farmers.
"Now," Abigail went on as if she hadn't shocked Vivid to her toes. "Didn't Rush help raise money for Reverend Allen's Mother Bethel in Philadelphia?"
"Yes, he did," Adam Crowley stated. "And so did Thomas Jefferson. Are slave owners now friends of the race, too?"
"Of course not," Abigail countered. "One only has to look back at Jefferson's writings to know Jefferson was no friend. And that poor Sally Hemings and the children she bore him," Abigail said sadly. "However, Mr. Rush should be judged in a different light"
Adam Crowley glanced over at Vivid and said, "Will you please talk to this woman who calls herself a historian? Tell her the esteemed Dr. Rush's theory on why our race has black skin."
Vivid stared at him wonder. "Mr. Crowley, how do you know that?" Vivid had learned about Rush in medical school.
"Tell her."
Vivid spoke to Abigail but continued to stare at Adam Crowley, amazed that he knew of Rush's theory. "Dr. Rush believed we suffer from a form of leprosy, Abigail." Vivid had been taught not to stare but she couldn't help herself. "Mr. Crowley—"
He seemed intent upon ignoring Vivid's questions as he asked his opponent, "Did you hear that, Abigail? Leprosy. What kind of learned 'friend' is that? Leprosy." He then turned to Vivid. "Thank you, Dr. Lancaster, I believe I can handle things from here."
Vivid gave him a measured look for refusing to satisfy her curiosity, but she made a mental note to pay a visit to the Crowley home as soon as time allowed. He owed her some answers.
Leaving the two older people to their historical wranglings, Vivid slid her way back through the crowd and resumed eating her ice cream. She saw Eli Grayson talking with Jewel Crowley. The young woman was smiling and appeared to be in much better health.
As it got closer to dusk, folks began to gather up their belongings for the ride home. Children were called in from the surrounding fields. Neighbors hugged in parting and the men in the horseshoe pits and those seated at the domino tables began to wind down their respective competitions.
"You ready to head back?"
Vivid turned at the sound of Nate's voice. She looked up into his eyes and felt her senses humming. “Um, yes, as soon as I find Abigail."
Vivid sought to remain as politely distant as possible.
“Abigail has decided to go back into town with Miss Edna," he told her. "She and Magic will be back later tonight. Miss Edna says you're welcome, too, if you care to join them."
"No. I think I'll go on home, I have some journals to read."
"Well I'm going back, so you can ride with me. I'll get the wagon."
Their short ride home started off in silence. Vivid looked at the beautiful surroundings, fascinated by all she saw, while a grim Nate sat fascinated by the beauty at his side.
"Your aunt and Mr. Crowley are quite the pair," Vivid said to break the mounting tension.
"Yes, they are," he replied. "If anyone should be thinking about marrying up, it's those two."
“Why on earth do you think that? Your aunt seemed very angry at Mr. Crowley."
"You're probably right. She and Adam lock horns over just about everything."
"Then why suggest they marry?"
He looked at her and said, "Because Adam's in love with my Aunt Gail. Has been for most of his life."
Vivid's jaw dropped open.
"Close your mouth before something flies inside," Nate teased gently.
Vivid found her voice and asked, "Does Abigail return his feelings?"
"I'm certain she does, but she's as stubborn as a post. I'm afraid she's going to go to her grave denying it, which will be a pity, because I believe Adam can make her happy."
They rode the remainder of the way in silence.
Nate drove the wagon around to the barn and unhitched the horses. Vivid helped him remove the tack. He showed her the hooks on the walls, then watched as she hung it.
Vivid, very aware of his perusal, glanced around the large barn. There were enough stalls for six animals though only a few were being used. Viewing the aged plows and other old equipment stacked neatly in one corner, she assumed, at one time the Graysons must have farmed. A large stone fireplace encompassed one of the walls. She'd never seen a fireplace in a barn before. She then walked slowly over to some objects hanging on the wall at the barn's far end. "Do you play tennis around here?" she asked Nate.
He chuckled. “Those are snowshoes.''
Embarrassment scalded her cheeks as she returned the shoe to its nail in the wall.
"Don't be embarrassed," he offered gently. "You wouldn't have any knowledge of bear claws."
"Why are they called bear claws?"
"They resemble a bear track in the earth."
She took them down again and peered closely at their construction. On closer look, she felt even more foolish. "Why are these turned up at the toe?" she asked. He was standing too close behind her, his heat penetrating her senses.
"The turned-up toe makes it easier to walk in snow where there are a lot of trees. This pair with the flat round toe is for walking in open spaces where there are no trees."
"You just strap them on and walk?"
"Basically, yes, but it takes a bit of practice to move in them comfortably."
Amazed, Vivid rehung the shoes.
"I'll give you lessons when the snow falls, if you're still here," he added.
Vivid turned to him and asked, "If I'm still here?"
"Yes. If."
Vivid thought about the back-breaking work she'd done all week and found his remark offensive and disappointing. What would it take to make him see how seriously she took her position here?
She showed him her hands and asked calmly, "Do these look like the hands of a dilettante, Mr. Grayson?''
Nate could not hide his shock; her palms and fingers were raw, red, and cracked.
Vivid continued, "As you undoubtedly know, lye does this to human flesh when you scrub for a living. That's what I've been doing all week, scrubbing so I can make my living. But you don't believe I will stay, so fine. Continue to lie and claim to be neutral, just stay out of my way."
Angry, disappointed, and hurt, Vivid walked to the door of the barn. But she had one more thing to say. "And keep your kisses to yourself from now on."
Then she was gone.
Nate sighed. He hadn't meant to set her off, but on one hand he had gotten the result he'd desired. There would be no more kissing according to her, and that suited him just fine. She could go on about her business and he could take care of his without being further tempted to complicate an already explosive situation.
Chapter 10
A man's loud scream woke Vivid from her sleep. In the darkness, she sat up and listened wondering if she had imagined the sound, hoping that it had been just a dream. She heard only the night songs of the crickets at first, and then the scream came again, harsher, and filled with pain and despair. Chills ran over her flesh as the cry echoed across the night. Vivid slid from her bed, hastily donned her robe, grabbed her bag, and went outside.
In her bare feet she crossed the dark yard, looking up at the Grayson house. There were no lights in the upstairs rooms but the tortured cries sounded as if they'd come from inside.
She found Abigail seated at the kitchen table with her hands clasped tightly around a cup of tea. At Vivid's entrance she looked up and said softly, "Hello, Viveca dear."
"Hello, Abigail," Vivid replied just as softly.
"Did Nate wake you?"
Nate? Vivid stared a moment, then nodded.
"Me, too. Magic used to sleep through them, but not anymore. I suppose it's because she's no longer a small child. I just got her back to sleep." Abigail paused a moment, then said, "Have a seat, dear, and let me tell you a story."
Vivid set her bag on the table and took a chair opposite Abigail.
/> "On the east bank of the Mississippi on April 12, 1864, Rebs overran the Union garrison at Fort Pillow. My nephew and my brother Absalom were part of that garrison. It was made up of two hundred sixty-two Black troops and two hundred ninety-five White troops. When the Union men realized there was no winning the battle, they threw down their weapons and surrendered. The Rebs ignored the gesture."
Abigail had her hands laced so tightly around the cup, Vivid could see the strain on the veins and flesh. “The Rebs gave no quarter that day," she whispered. "The Union men tried to run down the bluff and hide in the trees, but they were hunted down and shot, especially the Blacks. Even those who stopped and raised their hands were murdered where they stood. Of the two hundred sixty-two Black men who'd greeted the dawn that April morning, only fifty-eight were taken prisoner by the Rebs; the rest were either killed, wounded, or—like my nephew—buried alive."
Vivid gasped in horror.
"Yes." Abigail nodded, tears in her eyes. "Fortunately, Nate was among those lucky enough to still be breathing when the Union forces unearthed the bodies. My brother, his father, was not."
Vivid could not name the emotions that welled within her upon hearing of such atrocities. Nothing in her life could even remotely equate to such awful circumstances. "He's lucky his mind is still whole."
"Yes, he is. These nightmares occur rarely now, but when he first came back, he was afraid to sleep. He'd prowl the woods like a wolf most nights, grabbing a couple hours of sleep here and there. Even now he manages to get by on only a few hours. I don't believe he's slept a full, restful night since that April."
"Has he ever described the nightmares?"
"No, and I haven't asked."
"You love him very much, don't you?" Vivid asked softly.
"Yes, I do. If he and Eli could settle their differences, I'd go to my grave a happy old woman. Nate deserves some happiness. When he came back, I truly believed we would have lost him had it not been for Majestic. She was such a tiny little thing. She'd been abandoned and she needed him. That kept him living."
"Nate's wife abandoned his child?" Vivid tried to imagine what sort of circumstances would have caused his wife to abandon the baby girl.
"No. Nate and Cecile never had children. Majestic was found on the steps of one of the hospitals where Nate sought help after Fort Pillow."
"Magic isn't Nate's daughter?"
"Not by blood. But I say a prayer for that mother every night because she gave her to us."
Vivid was stunned but also proud of Nate for rescuing the child. "Did the hospital try to locate the mother?"
"According to Nate, they tried at first, but with all the doctors and nurses had to do, they lacked the resources and the time to investigate fully."
Abigail raised her eyes to the ceiling. "He's quieted."
Vivid was pleased the house was silent again. She hoped the rest of his night would pass peacefully. "Do you think it would help if I spoke to him as his doctor?"
"No," Abigail answered. "Leave it be for now. He prefers to deal with his pain alone. We should respect that."
Vivid didn't know if she agreed, however, Abigail had been dealing with Nate's demons for a long time and Vivid didn't feel right to disregard his aunt's advice, at least for now. "Has he seen a physician at all?"
"A few times after he returned home. A doctor down in South Bend assured him the dreams would go away eventually, and suggested laudanum or an opiate to help him sleep. Nate refused to take them though. He'd seen the men in the army hospitals and he didn't want to trade the nightmares for an addiction."
As a physician, Vivid understood Nate's stance. "You say the nightmares rarely occur now. How rarely?"
"Lately, only three or four episodes a year. Springtime seems to be particularly hard for him. During the month of April two years ago, he had one every night for weeks."
Silence filled the kitchen as both women lost themselves in thought.
"He'll sleep for the rest of the night now. You should go on home to bed, Viveca," Abigail suggested softly, breaking the quiet. "Sun'll be up in a few hours."
Vivid agreed, though after learning Nate's story, she doubted the sleep would be a peaceful one.
Nate sat on the edge of the bed, drenched in sweat, still breathing harshly from the aftermath of the nightmare. Tonight it had been particularly intense. It began, as always, with him lying in the dark of the damp, shallow grave, terrified and surrounded by the dead, but this time, the dampness of the earth felt real. The dull thud of the bodies being tossed atop him sounded as loud as drums, the laughing voices of the Rebs fining the pit, like demons. With the addition of each man thrown in, the piled corpses shifted, lifeless limbs moving macabrely across his face and chest, and in the dream, as he had in reality, he'd gasped to breath in the thin, stale air. Panic and fear howled within him, yet he didn't dare move or make a sound lest the Rebs murder him like all the others. So Nate lay there, letting himself be entombed, his mind screaming the silent screams of the damned.
Nate walked across the room to the open window. He pushed the double panes open further. The air came in slowly, ruffling the curtains a bit, soothing his face. He closed his eyes and let the breeze's touch lift away the remnants of the horror. Would he have to endure these recurrences for the rest of his life? Hadn't he suffered enough, sacrificed enough? Had the death of his beloved father, Absalom, meant anything? The questions were ones he'd been flinging at the heavens for over a decade, without an answer.
The intensity and frequency of the Fort Pillow memories had decreased sharply with time and he hadn't screamed out in horror in many years as he had tonight. He was certain he'd woken Magic and Aunt Gail. He'd have to speak with them in the morning.
He noticed the lone light shining in Lancaster's cabin. Had he awakened her, too? Had his screaming frightened her as much as it had Cecile? He sensed not. She impressed him as being cut from stronger cloth. She'd certainly shown her strength in the barn this evening. They had not parted on the best of terms. He remembered how red and cracked her hands had been. For some unexplained reason he was angered by the sight of her injuries. Why hadn't she waited until he found someone to hire? She should not have been elbow-deep in lye scrubbing. Nate realized she had him in knots. On one hand, he had the interest of the Grove to consider, and on the other hand, he found himself more and more captivated by her lush mouth and his eyes straying more and more to those swaying hips. Finding her yesterday when she got lost had been easy because he'd been covertly following her movements all day. He'd seen her greeting the families and kneeling to talk to the children eye to eye. He noted the respect she gave Garret Turner, even though Nate was sure the man had turned down any offers of assistance she may have pledged. He also noticed that not everyone had greeted her with a smile, but she hadn't let it deter her from behaving graciously to the next person.
He readily admitted to being distant with her, but he had her best interest in mind. While in Kalamazoo, he'd decided there could be no more kisses; her soft, virgin mouth was not for him to toy with. The last time he felt so overwhelmed by a woman he'd married her, making the mistake of a lifetime. And had no intention of making any more mistakes by marrying Lancaster or anyone else. Yet the fortress guarding his heart, sealed shut a decade ago, seemed to be slowly opening its rusted and creaking gates in direct opposition to his will. Viveca Lancaster, with her billiard stick, her rifle, and her lovely black eyes seemed to be turning his world upside down.
Neither Nate nor his daughter made an appearance at breakfast the next morning. When Vivid asked after them, Abigail explained they'd left at first light to go fishing for a couple of days.
After breakfast, Vivid helped Abigail with the dishes. Once they were done, Vivid said, "Abigail, I don't believe your nephew appreciated your teasing yesterday."
Abigail's mahogany face took on a look of absolute innocence. "What teasing?"
"The Nate-and-Viveca-should-marry teasing."
"Oh, that.
I wasn't teasing." Abigail poured herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table.
"That's absurd. He and I don't even like each other. Why just yesterday we—never mind." Vivid didn't want to reveal her anger or her bruised feelings.
Abigail peered at her suspiciously. "Viveca, my grandfather put great faith in the spirits. I believe that is why he and the People got along so well."
"The People?"
"The native people."
Vivid nodded in understanding.
"The day my nephew turned one week old, my grandfather took him out to the woods for three days to see if the spirits would reveal Nate's future. Throughout his life, my grandfather kept true to the traditions he learned before his capture. He'd performed this same ritual quest with my father and my brother, Absalom. During the three days in the woods with Nate, Grandfather saw no signs from the trees or animals, nor did he hear anything on the wind. He knew the spirits would often keep the child's fate to themselves if the future was too bright or too tragic. Such a thing happened on my brother Absalom's quest, and all the adults assumed a brilliant future lay ahead. Who among them could have envisioned an event as horrible as Fort Pillow?" she said softly.
Vivid felt her sadness. "So did your grandfather see a sign for your nephew?''
"Yes, he did. That last night as he lay sleeping he had a dream. There were two pillars, one aflame, the other frozen like ice. The ice pillar grew first, filling the dream like a glacier, then behind it stood the flame, small at first, then it, too, began to rise. The ice tried to stand but as the little flame grew larger and roared red-hot, the ice began to melt. It melted slowly, he told us, forming the shape of a woman before finally fading away."
"What became of the flame?"
"The flame turned into a slowly revolving circle of smaller flames, each of which turned into women from the village of his youth. They were smiling and dancing the traditional dance to celebrate a long and happy marriage."
"So what did it all mean?" Vivid asked.
"It meant that Nate would have two women in his life with the ability to wield great power. I am certain the icy pillar was his first wife, Cecile."