Because of Rebecca
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Because of Rebecca
by
Leanne Tyler
American Heroes Series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Because of Rebecca
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Leanne Tyler
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Tina Lynn Stout
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First American Rose Edition, 2013
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-751-9
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-752-6
American Heroes Series
Published in the United States of America
Praise for Leanne Tyler and…
AVA
: “Reminiscent of Jane Austen’s Emma, this charming tale set in nineteenth century Georgia will have you chuckling at Ava’s schemes while longing for her to find her own true love.”
~Carolynn Carey, award-winning romance writer
“Matchmaking has never been such fun!”
~Karen Hall, award-winning author
~*~
VICTORY’S GATE
: “Leanne Tyler’s award-winning story
VICTORY’S GATE
is a must read. She guides the reader through the Civil War’s era so that two people from different centuries can find love.”
~Loretta Rogers, award-winning author of
ISABELLE AND THE OUTLAW
“A delightful tale of unending love”
~Jessie Verino
~*~
IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU
: “What would you do if your long lost love, presumed dead for twenty years, turned up at your high school reunion? If you’re as hooked on the premise as I was, this charming tale won’t disappoint!”
~Jannine Gallant
“The kind of story we all love to read—a second chance for a happy ending. Author Leanne Tyler tackles the dreaded ‘high school reunion’ with skill and fun...the perfect read for a lazy afternoon...”
~Karen Hall, award winning author
Dedication
To my critique partners: Debbie, Teresa, and Kerri.
Prologue
Memphis, Tennessee
Christmas 1857
“You must try, dearest.” Rebecca wiped her sister’s brow with a damp cloth and held her hand as another contraction came.
Mariah’s face contorted. “I—I can’t.”
“Just one more push,” Doctor Baldwin ordered from the foot of the bed.
“It’s too hard,” she screamed and squeezed her sister’s hand, bearing down on the bed.
“Now, take a deep breath and push,” he instructed.
She screamed with the push and a drawn out silence filled the room. Then Mariah gasped and slumped against the bed, her wool gown, limp and soiled, crushed against her bloodstained thighs.
Finally, the baby’s wail broke the silence and brought tears of joy to Rebecca’s eyes. The doctor handed him to her to hold while he severed the umbilical cord.
“Let me see him,” Mariah urged in a faint voice. She touched her sister’s arm and Rebecca turned, holding the baby in the lamplight for her to see.
“A fine boy.” Baldwin wiped his brow with his forearm. “You did well.”
When the cord was severed Rebecca carried the new life over to the dresser, where a washbowl waited with warm water, and she proceeded to bathe and swaddle him.
“I’ll call him Lucas.” Mariah’s weak voice was barely audible. “Lucas Samuel Davis after Papa. What do you think?” Her voice wobbled as the doctor finished up the delivery.
“I think it’s perfect.” Returning to the bed, Rebecca sat on the edge and handed Lucas to his mother once the doctor left her side.
She smiled down at her son, and kissed his soft, tiny head. In the next instant, her eyes closed and she winced for a moment.
Rebecca watched her sister’s face contort and her eyes cloud as she took in a quick breath. “Are you all right, dearest?”
“I want you to take him,” Mariah murmured, making another face as she took a shallow breath. “Raise him as your own. Tell him,” she paused, “tell him I loved him dearly.”
She pushed the baby back into Rebecca’s arms and reached for one of her hands, unable to grip it. “Never let Stuart Delaney near him. Promise me.”
Puzzled by her sister’s request, she took Mariah’s hand in hers and agreed. “I promise, but you can tell Lucas yourself how much you love him. After a little rest you’ll feel better. The worst is over.”
“No,” Mariah whispered, closing her eyes. Her head slumped back against the pillow and her hand slipped out of Rebecca’s as she drew a ragged breath.
“Oh God.” Rebecca’s voice rose in pitch. “Doctor, come quickly. What’s happening?”
He rushed from the washbowl to the bedside drying his hands on his trousers in haste. “Go get your aunt.”
Rebecca hurried from the room with Lucas safely in her arms. She found her aunt kneeling before her mother’s rocking chair in the small parlor near a warm fire. The smell of fresh cut pine draped over the mantel permeated the room.
Josephine, wearing her prayer veil, looked up expectantly, wiping tears from her face.
“The doctor has asked for you,” she pleaded. “Please hurry.”
Her aunt crossed herself before rising to her feet. She pulled back the blanket and looked at the baby. “He lives, but Mariah dies for the sin committed.”
“Don’t say that,” Rebecca admonished in a hushed whisper. “Whether you believe her or not, she truly thought Delaney had married her that night on the riverboat.”
Josephine shook her head. “One day you’ll understand.” She turned and walked toward the door, but before she reached it the doctor appeared, wiping his bloody hands on a towel.
“I’m sorry, Miss Davis, I did all I could, but she’s gone. Your sister hemorrhaged and by the time I got to her it was already too late. I couldn’t stop it.”
“But—but—” she sucked in her breath until her chest ached.
Josephine crossed herself and kissed her rosary, murmuring a silent prayer.
Lucas wailed. Rebecca bounced him in her arms and began to weep, recalling her sister’s last words. She’d found them odd at the time, but now she had to wonder how had Mariah known she was dying? Had she sensed this was the end? Had the pain she felt after the birth been more than she showed?
It wasn’t fair. Lucas needed his mother. She needed her sister. She’d already lost her parents, yet she was expected to give up her sister too. For an instant she allowed herself to sink in despair, but Lucas stirred in her arms and she remembered Mariah’s last request. She’d promised to take Lucas as her own. She’d agreed without knowing what she was doing, but she didn’t regret it. Nothing would prevent her from keeping her promise.
Through tear-filled eyes she stared at Baldwin. Her aunt had sent for him from a county over to keep her sister’s delivery silent. From the few visits he’d made to their cottage he’d seemed like a good man. He’d never asked why they didn’t call upon the town doctor. Surely, he’d agree to what she proposed to keep her promise to Mariah. She’d pay him handsomely to ensure it.
She walked to the mantel and removed her money purse from the ornate box.
The doctor’s baritone voice broke the mournful silence. “I’ll notify the Parish of the birth and death records.”
Rebecca nodded. Her real problem wouldn’t be the doctor, but convincing her aunt.
“What shall we name him?” Josephine looked up from her rosary.
Wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, Rebecca turned and looked her aunt squarely in the eye. “Lucas Samuel Davis. That’s what Mariah named him before she…before she…”
“That’s a fine name for him,” her aunt agreed.
“Mother’s full name?” Baldwin sat down at the table.
Swallowing, Rebecca stiffened, prepared for her aunt’s reaction. “Rebecca Kathleen Davis.”
“Rebecca!” Josephine turned pale and crossed herself.
The doctor looked up, their eyes locking for a brief moment and she saw understanding. He’d obviously heard her sister’s last request. He nodded. “Father?”
“Unknown.”
“Rebecca, no! You can’t take your sister’s sins. You’ll ruin yourself,” her aunt pleaded.
With resolve, Rebecca looked her aunt in the eye again and stated, “It is done. Mariah asked me to take him as my own. If I’m to do this, I
must
become his mother. There’ll be no record of Mariah giving birth and no shame to her name. Nor will there be a link between Lucas and his father if the man ever comes looking for Mariah.”
Josephine turned away, but Rebecca heard her weeping.
Taking a deep breath, she walked to where the doctor sat and handed him the more-than-generous handful of gold coins for his services. “Can I count on you to keep silent?”
He nodded without examining the gift. “Are you certain you want to do this, Miss Davis? You’ll be changing your life forever.”
She looked down at the baby in her arms. His tiny hand reached up and grasped the lace on her dress and he yawned, closing his eyes. He was hers and nothing would change that. “Yes.”
He repositioned the wire glasses on his nose and cleared his throat. “I need to enter the death record. Her full name?”
“Mariah Kimberlynn Davis.”
Chapter One
Jackson, Mississippi
June 1858
“Surely we can do something about this, Mitchell.” Jared Hollingsworth tossed the missive on his attorney’s mahogany desk and paced across the room. “I won’t turn over Oak Hill to this Delaney fellow. I don’t care how many IOUs Rory signs with my name.
“You know as well as I that my cousin was asked to leave West Point for lack of interest in his coursework. He had little need to study, since he could easily forge any high ranking officer’s signature to get himself promoted.”
“Knowing and proving are two different things when it comes to the law, Jared. The boy was good at his art...or should I say craft.” Mitchell Cooper stood and crossed to the credenza. He poured two fingers of whiskey from a cut crystal decanter into a pair of matching glasses, and offered one to him. “It isn’t right,” he agreed, “but unless you can persuade Mr. Delaney to accept monetary compensation for the markers, he could go to the magistrate and insist ownership of Oak Hill be forfeited to him.”
“I’ll be damned if I’ll allow that.” Jared slammed his fist down on the desk, rattling the contents and causing stacks of papers to slide. “I’ve slaved myself and the few workers I can afford to make Oak Hill what it is today. I don’t have the money to pay Delaney what the plantation is worth. I already owe the bank a small fortune to cover the expenses of the last three years.”
“Then you
must
find Rory,” his attorney stated.
“I haven’t seen him since his mother died. No doubt he’s used up his inheritance and is off somewhere writing more bad drafts using my name. Isn’t there some way to protect Oak Hill?”
Shaking his head, Mitchell sat in his leather chair and read over the letter again. “Delaney says he’ll be here within the month with the auctioneer to look over the estate. It may be an idle threat, but you have until then to get Rory back here and face the man. I’ll help any way I can. I’ll send a few inquiries around to cities known for their gaming clubs and see what we can turn up.”