Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (38 page)

Asians, Mexicans – all gathered to meet, to eat, to deal and find work that would last. Then… he spotted her. His heart, his soul took flight – robbing him of every breath he fought to take.

She was more lovely than he had remembered her being. Her hair had grown out, was longer now. She was different, changed – elegant – lady like and regal.

He moved back quickly as she too was scanning the hall, perhaps, looking for him. It reminded him of when he first saw her, at that lake in the south. Back then, she’d been wild, free, frightened, but ready – yes, ready to defend herself. Knowing full well, that someone would be after her, so right she’d been. He’d been after her, and to this day, he knew – all that he did, was for them.

She smiled at something the other women were saying, and then Della began speaking about something that brought a look of sadness to her. He couldn’t help but wonder what that was?

Tori had been the one excitedly chirping away about the Websters’ oldest son, with Emma Byrd hanging onto every word spoken about him. “So he a widower, what happen to his wife?” Tori asked Della.

She sighed, “It’s best you set your sights elsewhere Tori, he’s still in mourning. Bitter in fact, according to Ms. Josey.”

“What happen?” Emma Byrd wished to know more.

“Well – I’m not into spreading gossip – but, he lost his wife while trying to help a pit fighter, a slave to be free. He took him home with him to give him work, help him get on his feet. He wasn’t right in the head, this pit fighter. He – forced himself on his wife – brutalized her, and then broke her neck – killing her.” The women all gasped.

“Their son, well - he’s never been the same since. He was left with six children to raise, alone. Ms. Josey and his mother, are the best of friends.” Della looked right at Asiza, “There is a lesson there for all of us. We
should
, help all that we can, when we can – but – don’t let skin color or your need to assist them, fool you into believing, all are deserving of what you have to share. There is good – and bad, in all men. Bad, evil and mean as can be, is not an exlusive curse of the white men and women. Just – don’t let skin color fool you.”

Asiza nodded her head, saddened by the horrific event, the others reflected the same mournful empathy.

Emma Byrd rolled her eyes, turned away and began strolling about to get away from the group. She now wished she didn’t have her beau – because she preferred this Michael Webster.

Oh what she could have if she were in this family. If she were lucky, maybe – her beau was gone… for good – she sure hoped so.

Asiza turned her eyes back to Ms. Della, “Mind if I stroll for a spell, I believe Broc is here somewhere.”

“No one is confined to this area, yes – by all means, enjoy yourselves.” She finished, looking toward the other women.

Asiza moved slowly about the hall, staying close to the edge of the floor, near the columns and walls, watching those that entered, hoping to spot Broc. When suddenly from her right, directly beside her ear, she heard a voice, a song – sang sweet and low… 

‘Asiza m’darlin

oh a many’o’men she scare

So delicate a beauty to see her,

but all warn me, beware

She turned, her eyes moist and wide, looking up into green eyes that gazed into her’s adoringly…

Blessid be, the Lord give me,

somethin’ so sweet an’ oh so rare, Ooohhh bu-u-ut a many’o’man she scare – yes – a many’o’man she scare…

They stood gazing at each other for moments neither could count. Broc was the first to break the enraptured silence.

“I’ve been watchin’ you, for quite some time now. When I found that I could finally speak, that song slid from my lips and into yer’ear. My-oh-my, look at you now.”

Asiza swallowed, tried to think, but found that immediate words escaped her. Feeling suddenly bashful for some reason, she lowered her face, gazing at his feet. She never knew that loving someone so much could render one so vacant of words – make one feel what she felt right then.

His large hand rose to her chin, lifting it to gaze at the face he so adored, allowing his thumb to gently caress her cheek, “Thought you be happy to see me.”

Breathing deeply and unsteady, Asiza finally smiled, “Happier, than you can ever know. You’ve cut your hair, shaved your beard and – well, look at you - dressed all fine and dandy.”

Broc smiled broadly, “Listen at my wife now – fancy talkin’ – why I’ah have to thank that Ms. Della, she’s done her job well.”

Within moments, the old Asiza returned bold and true, her eyes narrowed as she spoke her mind, “And who have I to thank for cleaning you up? Since you’ve yet to claim me as your wife, I can only surmise-…”

“Wooo-hooo-… thas’m’lass!” Broc threw his head back, laughing out loud, shaking his head, “Surmise?” he repeated.

Turning her nose in the air and looking away from him, she carried on, “You heard right. I can only
surmise
, that your needs are being seen to elsewhere – based on the fact that you have yet to seek me out as your wife – to consummate our union.”

Broc was so tickled, all he could do was laugh, encouraging her, “Talk some more, go on, get me told with more of them fancy words you learned.” He grinned.

“Mr. Broc Wolf, I am here to enjoy myself. Not entertain your tiny man’s mind as you seek to regale yourself with my new found awareness.”

“Whooo-wee!” He almost howled, looking around as if to see if anyone else heard how well she could speak.

Asiza stopped, glaring up at him because he continued to grin, laugh, and enjoy the new her, “Since you have cunningly avoided my query by making every little thing I say into amusement for yourself, I am going to move on and-…eeek!”

She squealed as he suddenly snatched her thru French double doors onto the cold veranda, where snow continued to fall in large cluster flakes.

“Broc!” She gasped, surprised, bewildered and pressed against the stone wall. Just as exhilarating was the quick attack of his warm, moist mouth, covering hers. The kiss was stolen so fast, and over just as briefly, she could barely recover. Sucking in to breathe, “Broc Wolf,” she called his name breathlessly, “what if someone were to see us?! Take me back in!”

“Yer my wife! I can kiss you all I wish – wherever it pleases me, and it pleases me now.” His head dipped once more, but this time she was ready, turning away.

“Aiy lass – stop it now.” He pleaded and went on to kiss her long graceful neck.

“No! Ah - Broc – I’m cold!” She complained, heart slamming, belly heating up as well other parts of her.

His knees dipped, arms went around and under her rump, lifting her high as he continued on ravishing her. His mouth, traveled into the vicinity of her bosom. “Lord you smell good.”

“Broc – you – you’re messing up my hair! Rumplin’ my clothes, stop right this minute while I still have some decency left. What will everyone think?!” She scolded, trying to get him under control.

“That I’ve ravished you, an’ good!” He paused a moment to grunt.

All Asiza could do was imagine the look on Ms. Della’s face when she saw her - she could only wonder if her hair was a mess? Dinner hadn’t even been served yet, not to mention the dancing later.

“Broc!”

He exhaled, holding her up high against him, with her hands braced on his shoulders. He gazed up with loving eyes. “Yer m’wife – you denying me?”

“I know Broc – no - but – this is not the time, nor the place. We still have to go back in there.” She reasoned as her husband held her as if she were a child.

“I’ve missed you.” He informed her, “Maybe, yer gettin’ too good for me?”

“Nonsense! I’m not the one who forced our separation, that was your doing.” She reminded him.

“I would have followed you anywhere, endured anything – I still would…”

“I’m not that kind’ah man – ya’ hear? You right where I want you, till we have a home for me to carry you into. It don’t mean, that I don’t miss you, long to touch you – kiss you, have you close to me.”

She went quiet, smiling softly.

Broc watched the vapor of her warm breath come from her nose and mouth. Sighing, he turned with her still up in his arms, leaning over his shoulder now. Back in the ballroom, pulling the door closed behind him and lowered her to her feet. Looking her over, he corrected the little places he’d messed. Her hair was fine, if not better for the messing he’d done.

Asiza let him. Now that he was with her, close to her, she couldn’t think of anything that made her feel so good.

“You… you proud of me Broc – how I speak, look?”

Gently grasping her chin, he shook his head in wonder. “Proud o’you? As proud as Noah after completing the ark. Not sure a man like me deserves ya’lass – but I want the best. That be you.”

Asiza heart soared.

After a bit of thought, looking into her sparkling green eyes, he went on to gruffly state in a slight Irish brogue, for her ears only, “Ain’t no other woman do for me, what you do. How I get by, is man’s business, don’t you go worryin’ ‘bout another. Never will there be any for me – only you… ya’hear?”

Asiza swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding softly.

“Come now, let’s – enjoy this attempt at a celebration – things don’t pick up soon, I’ah have to step in.” He grumbled, placing her hand on his arm, strolling now as a couple, “See, I have m’moments – when I’m a gentleman. Need none t’teach me that.”

Asiza could only smile, blushing - proud.

Now that she was on Broc’s arm, everything else sped on by, it wasn’t long before the greeting ceremony was over. The guests were all mingling, enjoying the music playing in the background. As they strolled, they saw Boaz talking with Ms. Della, who was pleased it would seem, by his presence.

They also saw Millie, talking to Manny and immediately Asiza’s memory was sparked, with wide eyes she turned to Broc.

“We have to go and speak to him – Broc – he knows my Suga… he knows where she is.” She pleaded, while dragging him along. It appeared that Millie had the same thing in mind. As they made their way to them, she was already pointing to her – just as eager for them to work out the details.

It wasn’t long before Lena was in with them and the talk took off about Lady Sarah Abigail Caine. Asiza could not believe what she was hearing – that her sister was married to a Marquis, living on a grand estate and last that they knew – she was with child.

Asiza was over the moon with joy for her baby sister, hearing that her husband adored her. She was almost in tears over it.

Broc stood listening, and all that went thru his mind was that somehow, he would see to it that his wife felt no difference in what he would provide for her.
‘Damn English’
he couldn’t help his resentment towards them, the English. After all – they were guilty of destroying the Irish on mass – as they did others, everywhere they went. Now he stood listening to the fact that his sister-in-law was married to an aristocrat, while his wife, and Manny’s spoke of arranging a way for them to visit England.

His nostrils flared. He felt eyes on him, and glanced over to see Manny watching him. He must have sensed what he was feeling because he interrupted the ladies’ planning – as if rescuing him, “Let us discuss this at another time Lena, after all – you should see if dinner is ready to be served.”

Lena knew her husband, their eyes communicated from one to the other without a word to be said. She smiled, and immediately switched gears, “Yes… let me – I’m sure all wish to eat.”

She gave Asiza a smile and a wink, and made her way to seeing about their meal.

Asiza was not one to miss a trick. As her mind played back what had just taken place, she recalled eagerness from all – except one, her husband. Turning her head, her eyes went to his – and they were guarded, almost hard and unwilling to settle on her. She would spend the next hour with her mind in a quandary over his unexpected change.  

Chapter Twenty-Five

The banquet was a delight. The ladies attending from Ms. Della’s boarding house made her proud. Their etiquette was almost perfect, even from Emma Byrd. Those not from the boarding house, who had come from the surrounding area, simply watched what others did and copied them. A few noticed the nervous insecurity from various new ones and silently coached them with a smile, as if to say,
“Just watch me.”

The air of the event was not one that encouraged others to make sport, ridicule or demean those less fortunate, without social graces. It simply was not allowed. So many invited were in the same boat – whether they were black, white, Indians or Hispanic. The event was to reward and give them something to strive for, to enjoy and see that nothing was out of their reach.

The few not in that boat, attending – were mostly men who knew better than to be presumptuous. Manny had established with certain ones what was allowed upon the first ball they’d arranged. They were of the upper class, yes – a few of them married, looking for mistresses.