Secret Tides Read online

  Her pa and brothers seemed ignorant of her sadness. So long as she kept their clothes washed and some food on the table, they didn’t seem to notice anything about her.

  Finally, Christmas came. But, unlike most years when the Tessier family all gathered at The Oak, Mrs. Tessier headed to Charleston instead, leaving Camellia’s pa to hand out the presents to the darkies on Christmas Eve. Her pa gave everybody a new set of clothes and shoes, a jug of whiskey to each man and a piece of red ribbon for every woman. The children got cloth dolls, even the boys. The darkies killed enough chickens for everybody to get the piece they wanted, and a traveling preacher set up in the barn for a few days and gave a pretty good message about the baby Jesus. The servants got drunk afterward, and a fiddler and banjo player took out battered instruments and started to play. The party lasted three days, but to Camellia it didn’t seem to have as much joy in it as usual. To her, everything seemed lifeless, hopeless, and useless.

  With the new year, the weather turned wet and cold. One late afternoon, just after the day’s cooking was finished, Stella caught Camellia as she hauled the last skillet of corn bread onto the table. “Put down that corn bread, child,” ordered Stella. “We be takin’ a walk.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Camellia. “We’ve got things to do.”

  “Those things can wait.”

  Too weak to care or argue, Camellia obeyed.

  “Come with me,” said Stella, handing her a shawl and bonnet.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You got to talk to somebody.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at you. Not eatin’, not talkin’, not sleepin’. You lettin’ what happened chew you up. Not healthy to let that go on forever. You got to tell out your demons so they lose their teeth.”

  “Who you got in mind?” Camellia asked, trying to figure who she could trust to keep her secret.

  “Just you wait and see. Put on that shawl, bonnet too.”

  Camellia again obeyed. Stella led her out of the cookhouse toward the back of the manse. A gray sky looked down on them. Camellia pulled her bonnet close and tried to make conversation to keep her mind off her fears. “I like Ruby. Seems to have a good head on her shoulders.”

  Stella smiled. “That be true. But she be better lookin’ than is good for her. All the young men come strappin’ around every Saturday night, Sundays too. She can’t get no rest from them, Obadiah especially.”

  “He’s coming most every week?”

  “Yep, even though she don’t pay him that much attention. He gave her a seashell necklace for Christmas. She won’t wear it, though.”

  “She seems gloomy most of the time.”

  “Yep, and keeps her words pretty tight. About all I learned from her is she used to have a man named Markus and a baby boy, Theo.”

  “Must be hard on her, leaving them.”

  “Reckon so.”

  They rounded the back of the manse and headed down a trail the width of a wagon. Four small houses, including the one where Camellia lived, sat about two hundred yards down the trail. Two of them were empty, their front windows shuttered and vines covering their front steps. Camellia stopped as they reached the houses, all of them better than the servants’ quarters, but none large or fancy.

  “Why are you taking me home?” she asked. “I’m not going to tell my pa, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s got enough on his shoulders.”

  “It ain’t your pa I got in mind,” said Stella.

  Camellia’s brow wrinkled. “Who, then?”

  “Just come on, child.”

  Camellia followed Stella toward the last house in the group. A row of cedar trees fronted the place, and a freshly painted white fence bordered it. The dirt yard was broom-swept smooth, and the house looked fresher than the others, even her own. Camellia slowed as Stella reached the steps of the house.

  “Come on,” said Stella. “Nobody here gone hurt you.”

  “I won’t tell Anna. Although she’s my aunt, and a good friend to me, she’s not strong. I won’t put worry on her head.”

  “I ain’t thinkin’ of Anna,” said Stella. “Josh Cain, he’s the one.”

  Camellia dug her heels into the ground. “He might tell Pa.”

  “I reckon not,” said Stella. “He’s a trustworthy man. I figure if you don’t let out what you got buried in you, then it’s gone block up your insides so much you can’t even live. I don’t want that to happen to you. So I been figurin’ who we can tell. Not the parson in Beaufort; he owes too much to the Tessiers and would do anythin’ to get some more. Not your father either, ’cause he might say somethin’ when he be drinkin’. That leaves Mr. Josh Cain, a man solid as a oak. Got strong roots that won’t tear up easy.”

  “But he’s my uncle,” said Camellia. “I shouldn’t draw him into this.”

  Stella looked down. “Half-uncle. You know that. But he be different than your pa, in lots of ways. Mr. Cain’s the only one I know we can trust to hear this and keep it to his heart.”

  Camellia weighed the matter. Josh Cain, her elder by ten years, had a knack for making people feel good. Lots of people, herself included, mentioned his eyes when they spoke of him—how they gave off a kind look, like they took you right into them and blessed you. But Mr. Cain worked close with her pa. What made Stella think Josh wouldn’t go to York with her secret? Although she’d known him for a long time, she’d never really talked alone with him and didn’t know how he’d take to such a thing as this.

  She rubbed her head against the ache behind her eyes. Nothing seemed clear. If she told Cain, he might tell her pa. But if she didn’t, she might as well go on and die.

  “Okay,” she finally said, gathering the shawl closer against the day’s chill. “Maybe Mr. Cain can help me figure what to do.”

  Stella nodded sharply. “He said he would meet us before suppertime.”

  They walked up the steps and knocked. A second later Anna Cain opened the door. She wore a simple gray skirt, a green apron, and a black blouse, buttoned to the neck. Her copper hair, shorter than Camellia’s, was parted in the middle. She looked pale … as if enough blood didn’t pump through her veins.

  “Welcome, ladies,” Anna said, as if welcoming them to tea. “Josh is expecting you.”

  Camellia smiled briefly and followed Anna through the narrow door to the front room. The house, though sparsely furnished, smelled clean.

  “The kids here?” Camellia asked as she sat down.

  “Lucy and Butler are out playing,” Anna answered. “Though I can’t imagine why in such cold. Beth’s in the kitchen.”

  “She’s getting bigger every day,” said Camellia. “Smarter too.”

  Anna beamed, and Camellia saw the love in her eyes. A feeling of kinship with Anna ran through her. Anna loved her husband and family; someday, after Camellia and Trenton married, she’d have a family she loved just as much.

  “Josh is washing up,” Anna said.

  Camellia smoothed her skirt. Stella stood behind her. Camellia glanced around. A fireplace bordered the wall to the right. A blue curtain hung over the single window to the left of the fireplace. A picture of a sailing ship on the ocean hung by a nail on the wall by the window. The colors were bright and strong. Camellia pointed to the picture. “Who did that?”

  “Josh,” Anna replied proudly. “He draws one, hangs it a while, then tears it down and throws it out.”

  “He ought to keep them,” said Camellia. “Got a real knack for drawing.”

  “He’s never pleased with them,” Anna explained. “Won’t let me keep them.”

  Camellia started to stand to examine the picture closer, but the sound of footsteps stopped her. Josh Cain entered the room, his hair wet, his face still moist from washing.

  “I’ll get some water for everybody,” said Stella.

  “No, Stella.” Anna held up a hand. “I’ll do it.”

  Stella stopped and Anna left the room. Josh took a spot by the fireplace a
nd stared first at Camellia, then at Stella, then back at Camellia.

  Camellia took a good look at him. Blond hair, eyes as blue as a clear day, a scar on his chin. Not a tall man but with wide hands and long fingers for his height. His teeth were more even than most men she knew, and whiter too, probably because he didn’t chew or smoke, at least not that she had ever seen.

  “I understand you want to talk to me,” he said gently.

  Camellia tilted her head. His language was finer than her pa’s—still not polished like Trenton’s, but not nearly so coarse or uneducated as most men’s. She suddenly felt nervous. Everyone knew Josh Cain as an honest man, and here she’d come to tell him she’d killed Marshall Tessier. Surely he’d want to haul her away to the sheriff. She wanted to run, to leave this house and never come back. But what would happen if she did? How would she live with herself?

  “She all tore up inside,” said Stella, filling in the silence. “Not sure she ought to say her mind.”

  Josh took a seat and put his hands on his knees. When he spoke, his voice sounded smooth, like a slow-moving stream. “Just take it easy,” he offered. “Nobody here will repeat anything you say. Stella told me you wanted this kept secret. I promise you I’ll hold it close, whatever you tell me.”

  “But you got no clue what I’m to tell.”

  “It matters not.”

  Anna reentered and handed them all a cup of water, her hands shaking slightly as she handed the last cup to Josh. Camellia noticed sweat on her brow and an even whiter tinge to her skin and lips.

  “I think I best go rest,” Anna said. “I’m not feeling well.”

  “Need anything?” Josh asked, concern evident in his eyes.

  “No, you stay here. Give me a few minutes to rest, that’s all.” She left before Josh could do anything else.

  “She be a fine woman,” said Stella. “Not many white ladies be offerin’ water to a darky.”

  Josh smiled at Stella, then faced Camellia again. She clenched her hands in her lap. If she couldn’t trust him, she couldn’t trust anybody. She decided she better speak in a hurry before she turned coward. “It’s about Mr. Tessier,” she started. “The way he died.”

  She quickly told the story, watching Josh the whole time, studying his reaction. His face was blank as she talked, and that gave her courage to say everything except the part about Stella coming back before Tessier slipped. When she’d finished, she sat back and unwrapped her fingers, her heart slowing some now that she had confessed her crime.

  Josh closed his eyes. She could see him trying to measure what to say or do. She held her breath and waited, not daring to interrupt. After several minutes of silence, he opened his eyes, stood, and threw a log into the fire. He poked it with a long stick. When he finished, he faced her and Stella again.

  “Sounds like you have no sin in this,” he offered. “A man comes with advances on you, no matter his station or yours, you have a right to say no. If he presses his desires and something happens, that rests on his head, not yours.”

  “I don’t know that the law would see it eye to eye with you,” said Stella. “She bein’ a woman of lower station than Mr. Tessier. You know good as me that a body’s place makes all the difference with the law.”

  “You know about all this?” he asked Stella, his surprise evident.

  “I be there when it happen,” said Stella. “Miss Camellia left that part out.”

  Josh faced Camellia again. “You lied to the sheriff.”

  “I got scared,” said Camellia. “Not sure what would happen.”

  “I made her keep her quiet,” said Stella. “Blame me, not the child.”

  Josh sat down, hands on his knees. “Secrets are hard to keep. They’ll eat you up after a while.”

  Camellia wondered if Josh Cain kept any secrets, then decided not. A man of his character didn’t lie well.

  “I believe you could convince a sheriff of your story,” he said slowly. “A jury too, if it ever came to that.”

  “No!” Stella emphasized. “We not goin’ to no law; you promised me you’d keep quiet whatever she told you. I wouldn’t have brought the child to you if I thought you wasn’t a man of your word.”

  “I did say that,” Josh agreed. “But I didn’t know how serious it was. A man is dead … the most powerful man in the area.”

  “All the more reason to keep our quiet,” insisted Stella. “What good it gone do to say this now? Who’s it gone help? Poor Mrs. Tessier? It gone be good for her if me and Miss Camellia tell out that her husband tried to have his way with this young girl? And Mr. Tessier? His name already not so good. Most folks will believe us, even if they throw us in jail for it. They know the truth. That man messed up a lot of girls, white and other, you know that. Why drag his name down in the mud any more than already? Then, last, what about Miss Camellia here?” She moved to Camellia’s side and put her hand on her back. “She’s barely a woman. Even if the law believes us and lets us go, she still gets a bad name for this, people whisperin’ behind her back. What good that gone do?”

  As the old woman pushed back a sprig of her frizzy hair, Camellia wanted to hug her. Although some might point out that Stella had selfish reasons for not wanting the truth told, Camellia believed she didn’t really care much about any of that. Stella truly wanted to protect her, and that warmed Camellia’s heart. She couldn’t remember anybody else who had ever looked out for her interests first, not even her pa. She loved Stella for it.

  Josh stood again, this time walking to the window. “You make a lot of sense,” he said, looking out. “But I have to tell you it goes against my nature to leave things unsaid.”

  “Mine too,” Camellia agreed. “Reckon that’s why I don’t sleep so good these days.”

  “A conscience can be a powerful thing,” he said.

  “Everybody got a few things on their conscience,” offered Stella. “Expect even a man like you.”

  When Josh pivoted back and faced Stella, Camellia sensed something pass between them.

  “Tell you what,” Josh said. “Let me think some on this. I don’t see any hurry about it, do you?”

  Camellia shook her head.

  “That be fine,” said Stella. “You do all the thinkin’ you need. Mr. Tessier be dead. No rush gone change that.”

  “Josh!”

  The scream came from the back of the house. In spite of its shrillness, Camellia recognized Anna’s voice.

  There was a loud thunk, and Josh ran from the room, Stella and Camellia close behind. Camellia paused as she reached the bedroom door, but Stella kept right on going. Camellia followed her inside. Anna lay on the floor by the bed, both hands gripping her head, as if trying to squeeze her skull in a vise. Her cheeks were red, a sharp contrast to the pale color she’d had when she left them.

  Josh knelt by her. “What, honey? Where does it hurt?”

  Anna tried to speak but managed only a few low moans. Beth suddenly appeared by Camellia, who instinctively hugged the child.

  “It be somethin’ in her head,” whispered Stella. “I seed this once, long time ago.”

  Josh glanced at her, freezing her into silence. “She’ll come around after a few minutes.”

  Camellia hugged Beth tighter as Josh tenderly picked up Anna and tucked her into bed. Camellia took Beth and headed to the kitchen for some water.

  “Mama gets the headaches,” said Beth, handing her a clean rag. “We all help when she does.”

  “You stay here,” said Camellia, wetting the towel in the water basin. “Let me go check on her. I’ll come back in a few minutes, okay?”

  Beth nodded as Camellia started back to the bedroom. She found Josh sitting by Anna and rubbing her temples.

  Camellia handed the towel to Josh and stepped back. Anna stared blankly at the ceiling. Her mouth moved but no words sounded.

  “Leave us for now,” said Josh as he put the wet towel over Anna’s eyes. “She needs quiet.”

  Stella shook her head and led Cam
ellia from the room. “Go to the manse,” Stella said. “Tell your pa about Anna. See that he sends somebody to Beaufort to find us a doctor man.”

  “You think a doctor can help?”

  “Not for me to do no guessin’,” said Stella.

  “But you said you saw this once.”

  “Yes. A darky named Toby, no more than thirty years. Sittin’ on his porch on a Saturday night. Healthy as a young horse. Grabbed his head and bellowed out somebody had stuck a pointy stick in his ear. A few minutes later, he kilt over, his eyes rolled back, and frothy wet came to the corners of his mouth. He stayed with us about four months, then passed right on to Jesus.”

  “You see this as the same thing?”

  “Go on, child. Go to the manse. Send for a proper doctor; let him say what it is.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Camellia obeyed, hesitating only long enough to tell Beth bye and that she would pray for her mama. Heading to the manse, she wondered what Josh would do with what she’d told him? Nothing, she decided. At least not for a while. Right now Josh Cain had a whole lot more on his mind than what had happened to Marshall Tessier.

  Chapter Nine

  Ruby stayed mad a long time during that first winter on The Oak. Although Stella allowed her to stay in the two-room cabin where she lived near the manse, Ruby didn’t even talk to the old woman at first. Why should she? Stella liked to boss, and Ruby didn’t want to obey.

  “You’ll take care of the top floor of the manse when people are home,” Stella directed. “Make the beds, keep the chamber pots clean, sweep up floors, keep fresh water in the basins in all rooms, wash clothes in the iron pot in the wash house. When they be not home, you’ll take to the kitchen with me and Miss Camellia.”

  Although she mumbled a lot about the bad hand life had dealt her, Ruby knew better than to disobey. No use making Stella or anybody else mad, especially so close to Mr. Tessier’s dying. White folks in the middle of hard things often treated their darkies poorly, taking out their bad feelings on somebody who couldn’t do anything back. Besides, if she had any notions of ever getting shed of the place, she needed to stay quiet and study out the people, figure out who could help her and who couldn’t. A colored gal raising a ruckus would attract too many eyes, eyes that might keep that gal from running off when the right time showed its head.