To Whisper Her Name (34 page)

“Tell you what, Miss Mary …” Susanna’s tone lightened. “Why don’t let’s you and me go and see your mama? She be restin’ in her room.”

Olivia’s eyes widened as she brushed away the tear. If Susanna and Mary caught her standing here, they’d think she’d purposefully been —

“No. I don’t want to right now.
She’ll
be in there.”

Relieved, Olivia also felt the not-so-gentle barb, knowing Mary referred to her.

“No, she won’t. She be in the stable doin’ work for the general by now. And don’t you forget what I done told you ‘bout her …”

Olivia’s interest perked up.

“She a good woman, Mary. Better than you know. She been through an awful hard time herself. Got a weight on her shoulders most white women like her couldn’t bear. Not and keep their head held high. But she doin’ good. And I think you need to give her a chance.”

Olivia felt the threat of tears again. Not only due to Susanna’s kind words toward her, but for the loving stability and safe haven the woman represented in Mary’s life.

“But I don’t like her, Susanna,” Mary said quietly. “She spends every waking hour with Mama, and I never get a —”

“Now that ain’t the truth, Mary. There be plenty of times when I
see your mama sittin’ all by her lonesome. You could visit with her then … if you had a mind to.”

“But it’s not like it could have been … if Papa had said yes to me.”

“Mary girl, your folks care too much ‘bout your learnin’ to let you up and leave school to help take care of your mama. ‘Specially when God provided Missus Aberdeen to come when she did. So don’t let your own stubborn hurt keep you from lovin’ your mama like you should. Lawd … what I’d give to be able to sit down with my mama again and just hold her hand and rock on the porch. I lost her when I was way younger than you. So don’t you waste no more time.”

Silence punctuated the gentle reprimand, and Olivia was reminded of the night General Harding had invited her into his office and told her about Elizabeth’s condition. She wondered, yet again, whether the general would have agreed to her coming here to live if Elizabeth’s health hadn’t been compromised. Somehow, she doubted it.

She glanced at the bedroom door, feeling an increasing sense of trespass standing here overhearing a conversation not intended for her. She wished she were back inside the room. Only three or four steps separated her from that wish, but what if the floor creaked and gave her away? They would know she’d been here —
listening
— the entire time.

Maybe they would leave soon and never be the wiser.

“Now, come here, child … Let Susanna wipe them tears.” Susanna laughed softly. “And I done made up my mind … Your mama
needs
to know about that mark you got in school yesterday. Let’s go tell her together. What you think?”

Olivia panicked. She started to take a step, then caught herself. The silence would give her away for sure. She needed to wait for one of them to speak again.

“I got the highest mark the tutor’s ever given. And he taught Selene too! He said that …”

Olivia took a step, and the floorboard creaked. She grimaced when Mary fell silent. Footsteps sounded from the hallway. Realizing there was no turning back, she lunged for the bedroom door, pushed it open, then almost closed again. She waited a frantic second or two, then opened it again and stepped through, her heart pounding.

Mary and Susanna, who had rounded the corner, came to a stop.

“Missus Aberdeen.” Susanna’s voice held a note of surprise, though her expression didn’t. “I thought you was gone already, ma’am.”

Olivia pulled the door closed behind her, trying to breathe normally. She kept her voice soft. “Aunt Elizabeth asked me to stay for a while. So I did. Until she fell asleep.”

Mary glanced past her. “Is she still sleeping?”

Olivia nodded. Mary lowered her head, then tilted it a little.

“Are those … Mother’s boots?” Mary asked.

Olivia looked down, arranging her skirt to cover her feet. “Yes, they are.”

“She … gave them to you?”

Olivia swallowed, seeing the hurt rising to Mary’s eyes. “It was more of a loan, actually. I told her I would only be borrowing them. Until I could buy another pair. Which will be soon!”

Mary stared. “I’ve always admired those boots. And have told Mother as much … many times.”

Olivia wished she could take the boots off right now and give them to the girl. “As I told your mother, Mary, I’m considering them a loan. In fact, if you’d like them, I’ll happily —”

“She gave them to you, Mrs. Aberdeen. Not to me.”

Mary turned and gave Susanna an almost triumphant I-told-you-so look and left. The soft thud of her boot steps echoed on the staircase, and Olivia’s heart ached.

She met Susanna’s gaze and sighed. “I’m so sorry, Susanna.”

“Sorry for what, ma’am? You ain’t done nothin’ wrong to her.”

Olivia glanced in the direction Mary had gone. “Apparently, I have. And have been doing it for some time. She hasn’t liked me from the very start.”

“Which should tell you somethin’ right off.” Susanna’s expression held gentle counsel. “The child’s just hurtin’, Missus Aberdeen. A little more than usual today, I’d say. But she be all right. She’s stronger than she looks.”

Susanna’s remark brought another to Olivia’s mind. Something Ridley had said to her.
You’re stronger than you think. I see it in you, even if you don’t
. She liked that he believed in her and hoped what he believed was true. Because most of the time, she didn’t feel strong at all.

But, oddly, thinking back on it, the times she did were when she was with him.

“Somethin’ else you need to be knowin’, ma’am …”

Olivia wondered at the bemused look on Susanna’s face.

Taking a purposed step, Susanna put her weight on one of the
floorboards, and it yielded a telling creak. The same creak — from the same complaining plank — of moments earlier.

Susanna smiled.

Knowing she’d been found out, Olivia felt her face go warm. She winced. “It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop, Susanna. I promise! I was out here in the hallway when I first heard you. Then, after a minute or two, I —”

“I’m only playin’ with you, ma’am.” Susanna laughed. “You didn’t hear nothin’ I don’t mind you hearin’. ‘Specially if you can help the girl along somehow. Though … I’m sorry for them hurtful things Mary said ‘bout you. She don’t mean ‘em. Not really.”

Olivia nodded, not knowing how she could help when Mary obviously disliked her so.

“But I got to say, ma’am … You put on a good show, waltzin’ outta that room and lookin’ up like you done. Other than hearin’ that creak, I’d have believed you.”

Olivia had to grin. The more time she spent in Susanna’s company, the more she liked the woman. Same as Rachel and Betsy. Other than Elizabeth — and Ridley, though he hardly fit in the same category — they were the closest things she had to friends.

Susanna gestured. “Was Missus Harding feelin’ any better ‘fore she went down for her rest?”

“No … But I think she’s feeling fine physically. It’s more a case of the melancholies today, for some reason.”

Susanna eyed her. “For
some
reason? You mean … You don’t know what today is?”

Feeling as though she should, Olivia shook her head.

Susanna stepped closer. “Today be the day that young Nathaniel died, ma’am,” she said softly. “Nigh onto, oh … twenty-three years ago now.”

Olivia had never heard the name. “Was that … Aunt Elizabeth’s son?”

“Yes, ma’am, in a way. But not by birthin’. Nathaniel was the
first
Missus Harding’s boy. She had him, and John, Jr., and done lost three others shortly after they were born. But our Missus Harding loved Nathaniel like her own. He was close to reachin’ his tenth birthday when he died.”

Olivia started to ask the obvious, then hesitated. Tragic though it was, babies died in infancy. But to lose a child of almost ten …

As if sensing Olivia’s unspoken question, Susanna continued.

“Sometimes, back in those years, Mr. John Harding and his wife, the general’s folks … They’d take the kids with ‘em into town. Oh, the kids, they loved it. Got all excited at bein’ in the city. But one day … Nathaniel went ridin’.” The haze of unpleasant memories clouded Susanna’s features. “His horse was gallopin’ down Church Street … and — for no reason, they said — that horse threw him.” Susanna closed her eyes. “And that precious, beautiful boy hit a tree. Died right there, they said. ‘Bout broke Missus Harding’s heart. The general’s too. ‘Specially after losin’ so many other babies.”

“So many
others
?” Olivia whispered, not meaning to pry. But maybe if she knew more about what Elizabeth had been through, she’d be better able to help her.

“She and the general done lost six of their own children through the years, Missus Aberdeen. I just figured you knew, with how close you and Missus Harding seem to be.”

“I knew they’d lost children. But … six?” Olivia couldn’t imagine laying one child to rest, let alone six.

“It hurt Missus Harding somethin’ awful. A part of her just kind o’ closed up inside. With some of them sweet babies, she held back from namin’ ‘em for a few days, wantin’ to make sure they was gonna live. Guess it was easier for her somehow.”

Olivia considered that for a moment, trying to reconcile why Elizabeth hadn’t shared any of this with her. Then again, considering what Susanna had shared, it was no wonder her aunt didn’t want to revisit those memories.

“What on
earth
…”

Olivia followed Susanna’s gaze to the general’s satchel on a hall chair.

“What’s that doin’ up here?”

“That’s an old satchel that belonged to the —”

“I
know
who it goes to, ma’am. I just wonderin’ what it’s doin’ up here.”

“Aunt Elizabeth gave it to me. She said the general didn’t use it anymore, and I needed something to carry my papers in, so —”

“Oh no, Missus Aberdeen.” Susanna eyed the satchel, then her. “I’m thinkin’ that ain’t a good idea, ma’am. I know Missus Harding meant well, but has the general seen you with it yet?”

Feeling like someone with their hand caught in the till, Olivia gave a shake of her head.

Susanna let a breath out. “Well, thank you, Jesus, for that. Now, you ain’t got to do what I say, o’ course. But if I was you, I’d take this real quick and put it back wherever you got it. Just like it was, ‘fore he sees you with it. And don’t say nothin’ to Missus Harding, if you can see to it. I don’t want to chance upsettin’ her even more.”

Remembering the letter in her hand, Olivia looked down at it, then back at Susanna.

Susanna leaned back a little. “What you got there?”

“I found it.” Olivia winced. “In the satchel. It’s a letter. From a …
Selena
or
Selene
. But not our Selene. This letter was written thirty years ago.”

For a brief second, Susanna looked like she might faint. “Please, Missus Aberdeen … Put that satchel back. Right now. And put that letter back in there too.”

“Put what letter back?” a soft voice said from behind them.

S
eeing Elizabeth standing in the bedroom doorway, Olivia felt the blood in her face pool in her feet. “Aunt Elizabeth … I-I’m sorry if we awakened you.”

“You didn’t, Livvy.”

Her voice still velveted by sleep, Elizabeth briefly glanced at the letter in Olivia’s hand. And all Olivia could think about was the moment she’d decided to open the flap to that envelope, and how she wished she could go back and … not.

“Is you feelin’ any better, Missus Harding?”

“Yes, Susanna. Thank you.”

But to Olivia, Elizabeth’s tone sounded unchanged from before.

Elizabeth’s gaze dropped to Olivia’s hand. “So, is one of you going to tell me what letter you were discussing? Or are you simply going to stand here with guilty looks on your faces?”

Susanna opened her mouth as if to speak.

“The fault is mine, Aunt Elizabeth.” Olivia fingered the folded stationery, remembering what Susanna said about trying not to tell Elizabeth. But what could she do under the circumstances? “I found a letter in General Harding’s old satchel. And … I read it. Or part of it. I shouldn’t have, I know. And I’m so sorry.”

Olivia held out the letter. Elizabeth stared at it for a moment, then the pages crinkled as she unfolded them. No sooner did her gaze light on the page, than she folded the letter back.

“This was in the satchel?” she asked, her tone delicate.

“Yes, ma’am.” Olivia nodded.

Elizabeth exhaled and along with the expelled air in her lungs seemed to come a weariness and a disappointment. She briefly
bowed her head, fingering the letter. Then looked up. “I didn’t realize he’d kept one of her letters,” she said softly. “I was under the impression he hadn’t.” A fleeting smile touched her mouth even as tears rose in her eyes. “It’s only natural, of course, knowing how much he loved her.” Her chin trembled. “I can hardly blame him for that. After all … he loved her first. Long before he married me.”

That evening following dinner, Olivia sat rocking on the second-story porch outside her bedroom, watching the mares graze in the meadow. The spring foals, nearly four months old, frolicked around their mothers, chasing each other, kicking and rearing. Yet, cute as they were, Olivia couldn’t get the image of a ten-year-old boy riding down Church Street out of her mind.

“They’re beautiful creatures, aren’t they?”

Olivia felt a hand on her shoulder and covered it. “Yes, they are.”

Already in her dressing gown, ready for bed, Aunt Elizabeth claimed the rocker beside Olivia. For several moments, neither of them spoke.

“Thank you, Livvy … for not pressing me with questions this afternoon. I feel as though I need to offer an apology for being so emotional about you finding that letter.”

“No … Please don’t, Aunt. I’m sorry, again, that I took the liberty of reading it.”

Elizabeth gave her hand a squeeze. “You did nothing wrong in my eyes, Livvy.” She winked. “If I’d found it, I would have opened it and read it too.”

“Yes, but that’s your husband’s satchel, and Belle Meade is your home.”

Elizabeth frowned. “I hope you think of Belle Meade as your home now too, Livvy.”

Olivia smiled. “Of course, I do. But …” Appreciating all that Elizabeth had done for her, Olivia quickly decided it was probably best she not try to explain how Belle Meade being “home” was still different for her. “I regret that my finding that letter made you so sad.”

Understanding deepened Elizabeth’s features. “The Selena in the letter was William’s first wife … John Jr.’s mother.”

Already having made that connection, Olivia nodded.

“I’ve not spoken to anyone about this, Livvy — other than Susanna, who’s been with me since before I married the general. And even then …” She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. “Susanna’s been more of a … witness to it, not a confidante, per se. But she’s been a comfort to me, all the same.”

Elizabeth started to speak again, then apparently thought better of it. Olivia sneaked a look beside her. Her aunt stared out across the meadow, her countenance lovely in the golden wash of a late-September sun, but the clench of her jaw indicated her struggle.

“It’s hard,” Elizabeth whispered, “to follow in someone else’s footsteps. Especially when they were so beloved.” A moment passed before she spoke again. “When I met William, I thought him the most handsome man I’d ever seen. I still do.” She smiled. “He was thirty-two and had two sons who needed a mother. I was twenty-one and in need of a husband. On our wedding day, when I stood at my bedroom window and watched William Giles Harding guiding the sleigh over the snow-covered fields of my childhood, I knew my heart was his. Wholly, without reservation. And that’s never changed. But …”

Seconds passed. When Elizabeth didn’t continue, Olivia glanced over to see her fighting back tears. Olivia reached out to her but Elizabeth shook her head.

“His heart has never been completely mine. As I said, I don’t fault him. And don’t mistake what I’m saying … I know my husband loves me. But” — Elizabeth drew in a ragged breath — “not the way I love him. And not, I think … the way he loved her.”

Hearing the rawness in her voice, Olivia tried to think of something to say that would help ease the hurt. But she knew from experience that words rarely possessed such power. She risked reaching over again. And this time, Elizabeth grabbed her hand and held tight.

“I feel foolish — and more than a little
selfish
— in telling you all this, Livvy.” Elizabeth brushed away a tear. “Because I know your own marriage was far less than what you desired. And deserved. And though you haven’t said it outright … I sense that Charles Aberdeen was …” Elizabeth hesitated. “A very hurtful and cruel husband.”

Olivia felt her aunt’s attention but deliberately kept her focus on the meadow, the scene going blurry. She’d often wished she could share that part of her life with Elizabeth, yet hadn’t felt at liberty to. And she found it oddly comforting to discover that, somehow, Elizabeth already knew. “Yes,” she whispered. “He was.”

Elizabeth squeezed Olivia’s hand, and they rocked, side by side, the gentle creak of the chairs keeping odd time with the crickets’ chirrup. Olivia caught sight of Ridley and Uncle Bob leaving the stable. The men headed for the front pasture. They opened the gate, and Olivia warmed when she saw the number of horses that swarmed to Uncle Bob. But what encouraged a smile was how Seabird immediately trotted toward Ridley.
Please, Lord, let that foal be healthy and strong … For him. And for his dream
.

Elizabeth leaned slightly forward, and Olivia trailed her gaze to where General Harding stood on the front porch of the old cabin, his head bowed. At first she wondered why he was there. But the cabin was his birthplace, after all, built by his father. After a moment, the general started back toward the mansion, his steps unhurried.

“I didn’t know,” Elizabeth continued, “until Susanna told me today … Selena gave the general that satchel, Livvy.”

Olivia turned, her eyes widening.

“Susanna said she overheard the general talking to John Jr. about it years ago. She never said anything to me, of course, knowing how I felt about the subject. And I don’t blame her. I’m sorry, Livvy … I never would have given the satchel to you had I known.”

Olivia thought of the satchel now tucked in the bottom of her wardrobe. “I tried to return it to his office earlier today, but he was holding a meeting with his foreman. I’ll do it first thing in the morning, right after he leaves.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“I’m sorry about Nathaniel, Aunt Elizabeth. Susanna told me. I hope you don’t mind.”

Elizabeth responded with a sad smile. “Not at all. He was an adorable boy. So full of life. I think his death was especially hard on the general because Nathaniel was so like her. Oh, we still had John Jr., and he was a wonderful boy. Perfect in many ways, actually. And he’s grown into a fine man. But Nathaniel … He was so young when she died, and he’d been so close to his mother. He was the spitting image of her too, as William told me. Many times …”

The words, heavy with meaning, hung in the night air as the sun sank lower behind the hills.

“Both of our daughters are named after her, you know,” Elizabeth whispered. “Mary … Selena … Harding. William asked me if I would mind. And, of course, I told him no. Which I’d do all over again.”

“Because you love him,” Olivia whispered.

“With all my heart.”

After a moment, Elizabeth rose and moved to the railing. She looked out onto the meadow bathed in the soft, golden glow of twilight. Olivia would have thought her aunt almost serene — if not for the way she gripped the banister tightly.

“Livvy … Have you ever had a … premonition of sorts?”

“A premonition?”

Elizabeth looked back, then nodded.

Olivia shrugged. “A premonition about what?”

“About anything. Just a
feeling
that something was going to happen. And then it did.”

Olivia thought about it for a moment. “I suppose. Once or twice. Why?”

When Elizabeth didn’t answer, Olivia felt a disquiet.

“Have
you
had a premonition, Aunt Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth held her gaze, then looked back out over the meadow. “No.” She laughed softly. “Of course not. But I do sometimes feel as if … a moment I’m living in was one I’d felt coming. If that makes any sense.”

It didn’t, but Olivia shied away from saying so.

Elizabeth laughed again. “Pay no mind to me, Livvy. I’m a silly old woman.”

Olivia stood and joined her at the railing. “You’re not that at all, Aunt Elizabeth. You’ve had a difficult few months. Years, perhaps. But …” She smiled. “You’re getting stronger. And you’re feeling better every day, aren’t you?”

Elizabeth reached up and brushed a curl from Olivia’s forehead. “Yes,” she whispered. “I am, dear. Thanks to you.”

Later, as Olivia sat by her bedroom window waiting for Ridley, it occurred to her how differently she viewed the Harding family now than when she first arrived. She’d thought of them as having everything, as being so perfect. But perhaps there were no perfect families. Only perfect misperceptions of them.

And perhaps marriages were that way too.

The discovery encouraged her in a way. To know that though
the general and Aunt Elizabeth’s marriage wasn’t perfect, they’d still made a success of it. Perhaps it wasn’t everything the younger Elizabeth had desired at twenty-one. But better than most, certainly. Olivia stared into the dark night. If she knew this, why could she still not let go of that childish dream of finding a man who would love her as she loved him?

When the mantle clock marked half past eleven, then midnight, and there was still no sign of Ridley, she finally changed into her nightgown, blew out the oil lamp, and climbed into bed.

One step closer to relinquishing that dream.