Passion's Furies, page 28
The letter slipped from Jacinta’s weakened hand. The thought of her father being ill sent her into a fit of nervous shakes. She took a seat right on the ground, her legs too weak to continue supporting her. She couldn’t lose him…he was all she had.
“Get up,” she ordered herself in the coldest tone. Blinking away the tears that blurred her eyes, she headed into the house. She knew what she had to do, though it was the last thing she wanted to do. Unfortunately, she had to go through her husband if she was to ever get back home. Of course, she could set out by foot, which was just as dangerous as it was foolish.
Bracing herself, Jacinta entered the quiet house, which now seemed eerie in its grandiose stature. Quietly, she walked the corridors, peeking into each room in hopes of locating her husband. On the second floor, she literally ran into him at their bedroom doorway.
Solomon’s hands closed quickly around Jacinta’s upper arms to steady her. Their eyes met, and the simple touch brought a rush of suppressed longing to the surface. Clearly, they were starved for one another. Solomon’s features were drawn into a helpless, desire-filled expression. Jacinta’s entire body tingled with arousal at the feel of his touch. Then, Solomon’s hands fell away as if he had no strength left to hold her.
“I received a letter today, from home,” she announced, twisting the edge of the envelope between her fingers. “It’s my father. He’s…ill,” she said, her heart lurching at the concern sparkling to life in Solomon’s black eyes. The look gave her the strength to voice her request. “I’d like to return home. Under the circumstances—”
“Impossible. I can’t allow that.”
Jacinta was stunned, but not by his quick refusal. She felt a measure of happiness dawning. Could he want to keep her near? Could his feelings be softening?
“Why do you really want to go, wife?”
The question started to douse the happiness that was beginning to take root. “Why?” she inquired slowly.
Solomon simply folded his arms across his chest and waited for her response.
“My father is ill—gravely ill. Haven’t you been listening?” Jacinta snapped, anger beginning to replace her happiness and patience.
“Is it really that? Or simply an excuse to become involved with the rebellion again?”
“How could you even suggest such a thing? Do you think me that heartless?”
“Don’t make me answer that.”
“You’re a cold man, Solomon Dikembe,” Jacinta breathed, shaking her head as though she didn’t recognize him. “What’s happened to you?”
Solomon’s black eyes only raked his wife’s small form with unmasked hatred.
Jacinta continued to shake her head. “I know you’ve been upset about…the baby, so have I.”
“Humph.”
“You doubt that?” Jacinta probed, stepping closer. “Solomon what is this about? I demand to know?”
“You demand?”
“Yes. And I damn well intend to have answers. I believe I’m due at least that much!”
“If you only realized what you are due,” Solomon breathed, bringing his face to within inches of Jacinta’s, “believe me, wife, you would certainly not be asking for it.”
Cold washed over her at the soft threat, but she would not be swayed. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“I know how you felt about the baby.”
Jacinta took a step back. “What?” she countered, completely taken off guard by his words.
Solomon rose to his full height. “I know how you felt about having my child.” His words were soft and full of hurt.
“What are you talking about?”
“In your own hand,” he began to clarify, his expression hardening as memories of the day resurfaced. “I’d hoped your words would comfort me. What I read did anything but comfort me. I know you viewed the loss of our child as a blessing.”
Suddenly, a picture of her journal lying on the ground flashed before Jacinta’s eyes. That’s what he’d seen! “Solomon you’re mistaken, I—”
“What? Someone else wrote those words? It was someone else writing that our child didn’t deserve to be brought into this world?”
“Solomon, please! Please, you have to let me explain,” Jacinta begged, rushing after him with her hands clenched to the bodice of her peach silk housedress.
“You told me so many times, and I wouldn’t listen. You said you would never give birth to any of my ‘half-whites’, remember that?” he challenged, his ebony gaze a mixture of hurt and anger.
Jacinta bowed her head. “Solomon, please…”
“What?” he snapped, pinning her with his bottomless dark eyes. “You deny speaking those words as well?”
“No. I-I don’t deny saying those things—”
Solomon muttered a nasty curse and smoothed a shaking hand across his dark, wavy hair.
“I can’t deny that I said those things or the fact that I wrote about my not wanting to bring the child into this world,” she bravely went on, watching him pace the study like an enraged lion. “I said and I felt those things, but there’s more.”
“No,” he raised his hand, “I don’t need to hear more. You can’t show me the logic or reason behind such feelings other than the fact that you didn’t want my child.”
The pressure of sobs began to build in Jacinta’s throat. Tears cascaded down her cheeks and she felt powerless to remove the loathing from his eyes.
“I think it would be best for you to leave,” he decided in an eerily refreshing tone as though he had decided to rid himself of her. “I’ll arrange passage. You should be able to leave by steamboat in two days.”
Though terribly concerned for her father, Jacinta had no desire to leave her marriage in such a perilous state. She watched Solomon go to the liquor chest and extract a bottle. Knowing she would never get through to him once the alcohol clouded his mind; she turned and practically dragged herself from the room.
Solomon uncorked the whiskey bottle. Then, realizing his wife had gone, he set it aside and buried the heels of his hands against his eyes.
* * *
Jacinta chose not to dwell on the situation that was slowly driving her mad. Instead, she packed for her trip. She packed thoroughly, not knowing when, or if, she would return. She was just finishing the task the following morning when Sheba and the rest of the house staff returned.
Sheba had been searching for her son, but was just as pleased to locate her daughter-in-law first. “You’re looking well!” she called from the open bedroom doorway. Her tone was cheery, but curiosity sparkled in her dark eyes at the sight of the young woman packing.
Jacinta dropped a lace camisole into the case and ran around the bed to embrace her mother-in-law. “I’ve missed you so,” she whispered, burying her face in Sheba’s shoulder.
Concern now mingled with Sheba’s curiosity. “You appear as though your strength has returned,” she noted slowly.
Jacinta nodded. “I’m feeling much better.”
Sheba smiled. “That’s quite obvious, if all these packed cases are a result of your efforts.”
Jacinta’s shoulders seemed to slump a little. “My father’s taken very ill. I’m packing to go home,” she explained.
“Oh, Lord,” she gasped, closing her eyes to utter a brief prayer. “Will he recover?”
“They don’t know,” Jacinta spoke as she returned to her bed to continue packing. “He won’t rest as he should. They hope I can convince him.”
“My prayers are with you and your father, child,” Sheba spoke while glancing around the room. “Is my son all packed?”
Jacinta cleared her throat. “He won’t be going,” she announced in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Not going?” Sheba whispered, stepping closer to the bed. “Surely he’s not about to let you take such a trip on your own?”
Jacinta was silent.
“What would possess him to allow that? It’s far too dangerous for a young woman to—” Sheba silenced when Jacinta burst into tears.
“There, there…that’s it…get it all out. That’s it,” Sheba soothed later when the girl’s emotions showed signs of calming. Jacinta had just told her everything that had happened.
“I’m sorry,” Jacinta spoke through her sniffles, “I haven’t talked with anyone about this. Solomon won’t discuss it, he’s barely said a thing.”
“I’ve always urged him to control his temper—it’s something I’ve come to regret,” Sheba confided while holding Jacinta in a rocking embrace. “I suppose I urged him more in adulthood because he’s such a large man and that, combined with his mixed heritage, has earned him much unwanted attention. Has he ever spoken to you of an incident regarding a mud bath?” Sheba inquired, offering a sad smile when she felt Jacinta nod against her chest. “I fear I’ve taught him to suppress his emotions to the point that when he explodes, it’s a devastating scene.”
“He had every right to be enraged,” Jacinta championed.
“Perhaps. But he has no right to send you off to Charleston alone with no protection,” Sheba countered.
Jacinta’s tears were returning. “It’s best for me to go. I think maybe Solomon and I were fooling ourselves…perhaps we weren’t meant for each other.”
“Now stop this!” Sheba ordered, her hands tightening around Jacinta’s arms to force her to sit up. “I’m going to find that boy.”
* * *
Solomon had gone for the day. When he returned, the house had settled for the night. He journeyed to the sitting room for a drink. He’d lost count of how many times he had imbibed that day. He found his mother there in the dark, waiting for his return.
“How was the party?” Solomon asked, clearly disinterested.
Sheba held her hands clasped atop her multi-colored skirts. “Very nice. How are things here?”
“I’m sure you know, so let’s not discuss it,” he decided, slamming a heavy whiskey bottle to the windowsill behind the bar.
“I understand Jacinta’s taking a trip?” Sheba coolly mentioned, watching her son decide against using a glass to partake of his whiskey. “I also understand you’ve decided to let her travel alone?”
“That’s right,” Solomon threw back, taking another swig from the bottle.
Sheba closed her eyes, frustrated by her son’s mood, yet knowing it was important to appeal to his sense of manhood and duty to his wife. “How can you allow that?” she questioned, when he brushed past her.
“She’ll go whether or not I allow it,” Solomon retorted, whipping the blue linen coat from his shoulders. “You know how she is,” he added.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it!” Sheba raged, finally losing her patience with her only child. “You know how dangerous it is for a woman to travel alone. It is especially perilous for a black woman—a young, beautiful black woman. Now you think on that,” she ordered before storming out of the fire-lit room.
Alone, the reality of his mother’s concerns doused Solomon like a dash of cold water. He knew, despite whatever difficulties existed between him and Jacinta, it was his place to keep her safe. Besides, he knew he would die if anything ever happened to her.
* * *
Jacinta took a light breakfast in her room and then headed downstairs to meet the carriage that would carry her to the dock where she would board the steamboat.
As her gloved hands trailed the polished stairways with their majestic carvings and plush carpeting, her eyes were set on the warmth and décor of the house. She did not want to leave! Her life was there, her heart was there, her husband was there, she thought. Solomon was there and she loved him desperately. Now that she loved him so completely, it was too late.
“Morning, Jacinta!”
“How are you?” Jacinta greeted upon seeing Joseph Ells on her porch. The man was one of her husband’s business associates, and they’d become friends the moment they met.
“Leaving us so soon?” Joseph asked, glancing back at the driver who was loading the carriage with Jacinta’s belongings.
She shrugged, hoping to keep the sadness from her eyes. “It’s my father. I have to be with him.”
“Of course, and my prayers go with you,” Joseph said, and pressed a gallant kiss to the back of her hand. “Solomon,” he said, his tone more firm when he turned toward the man, “we’ll see you upon your return.”
Solomon grinned, taking Joseph’s hand in a firm shake. “Take care,” he said.
Jacinta’s spirits were soaring. He was coming with her! She was as surprised as she was hopeful.
“You changed your mind?” she whispered, when they stood alone on the porch.
Unfortunately, Solomon’s coldness had returned. “It means nothing,” he grumbled, taking her elbow in a stiff, unaffectionate embrace. “Let’s go,” he ordered.
Solomon retained every bit of gallantry he possessed as he helped his wife into the carriage. As they walked, however, the coldness he fought to hold on to melted away as irresistible desire took root.
Jacinta thought she would swoon at the feel of his powerful hand encircling her upper arm. At times, she could have sworn she felt him massaging her gently through the pink satin sleeves of her dress.
The ride was set to be a lengthy one. Essentially, they would retrace the route of their journey into Michigan. Sadly, this trip would be bereft of the numerous stops and social events that colored their previous travels. Jacinta was grateful her strength had returned, for the trip would be even more taxing than before. Since much of the ride would be by covered wagon, Jacinta had the opportunity to don her tattered male clothing, as it would make for far more comfortable travel attire. She had planned to write between naps in the wagon, but she dared not pull out the book in the presence of her husband.
“Solomon, why did you change your mind?” Jacinta dared to ask one afternoon, when they had been riding in silence for the better part of fifteen minutes.
“It’s dangerous—a woman traveling alone,” was all he said. A beautiful woman, he added silently, his dark eyes tracing the face visible beneath the wide brim of the tattered brown hat she wore.
Jacinta was still pleased. At least he had cared enough to accompany her, she thought. That was enough for her. The notion relaxed her, and she settled back against the cushioned blue velvet long seat. The view from the small square windows held her gaze, until sleep visited.
* * *
When they arrived in New York and boarded the steamboat that would take them into Charleston, South Carolina, Jacinta found herself thinking of the Mandelas. She wished there was time to visit with Taurus and Monique and couldn’t help but recall how close she and Solomon had become during that time.
Forcing those thoughts from her mind, she focused on keeping up with Solomon as they made their way along the busy dock. Jacinta felt completely secure, enjoying the feel of Solomon’s arms about her shoulders as he guided her. It was amazing, she thought. She had never been a woman to expect, or be in need of, such niceties. Oftentimes, she found it weak that a woman couldn’t make her own way without male assistance. Now, she realized that it wasn’t out of weakness that a woman craved those things. It was the simple appreciation and wondrous feeling of support from another—a lover that made all the ills and hardships of the world seem bearable.
The beautiful steamboat Greenshaw housed a lovely café on deck. The Dikembes enjoyed a light supper there while their bags were being carried to the room. They were oblivious to the interested glances, or glares, thrown their way from other white passengers. Of course, many of those looks harbored more curiosity than animosity. Solomon and Jacinta were indeed a beautiful pair, they practically shrieked confidence and noble stature without having to utter a word.
Jacinta felt neither confident nor noble as she tried to consume the delectable slices of beef roasted to tender perfection, along with baked sweet potatoes and fresh crusted bread. Her eyes settled several times upon her husband’s powerful hands. Her mind raced with memories of his sweet gentle touch. Her memories grew so bold, her fingers weakened around the cutlery and a soft moan rose from her throat.
“Are you ill?” Solomon asked, there was no trace of harshness in his deep voice, as he was unable to mask the concern in his tone or his dark gaze.
Jacinta cleared her throat. “No.” She spoke in a hushed tone and barely looked up at him.
The rest of the meal passed with no further discussion.
Following supper, Solomon escorted Jacinta to their cabin, but he did not remain there with her. When three quarters of an hour passed without his return, Jacinta felt at ease enough to bring out her writings. She lost track of the time and fought her disappointment at the reality of her husband choosing separate sleeping quarters. She prepared for bed, simply choosing to sleep in the soft shift she’d worn beneath her clothing that day. She was just closing her eyes when the lock turned; Solomon had come back. She listened, afraid to move or breathe, lest he set out again. She could hear him, even though his steps were barely audible as he moved about preparing for bed. The mattress gave beneath his weight and she pressed her lips together and prayed that he would call out to her, pull her close and snuggle her into his safe embrace. Sadly, she realized her prayers would not be answered that night. The low steadiness of his breathing told her that he was sleeping. In time, she, too, gave into the exhaustion that weighed her eyelids.
Solomon, however, was not sleeping, but very much awake. How could he rest peacefully with her there next to him in a bed that was far too small to keep an adequate distance between them? Her hair brushed his arms and shoulders and her alluring scent teased his nostrils. God, he wanted her! He missed her in spite of the way she had hurt him. What he’d feared had happened. He had let down his defenses and allowed himself to love her and to be enchanted by her and he had been wounded—wounded heart and soul.
* * *
The wind howled incessantly the following morning. Rain beat the deck in blinding sheets. Solomon woke from his slumber; he barely recalled closing his eyes. He had gone through the night restless, frustrated and aroused. That arousal rose to greater heights when he realized that during the night, Jacinta had wound herself about him like a silken sheet. Her thin shift covered little as she snuggled against his nude form. Solomon could think only of taking her again and again. Unable to deny the urges rampaging his senses, he allowed himself just a brief touch of her satiny, chocolate form.
