One Last Time (15 page)

Pausing several feet from the mouth of the cave, Quillan instructs the cargo to turn off their lantern and leave it behind. He does the same with ours. “We have men from Georgia combing the area. They’re suspicious of us, so we can’t use any light other than what the moon is offering tonight. Stay close.”

My stomach knots with fear at the thought of the good ol’ assholes from Georgia. I reckoned they were slimy, seedy creatures. Now that I know the brutality they’re capable of, my spirit sickens, bringing on a ton of hesitation as we set foot outside our hiding place.

We keep in the cover of the trees, moving slowly, careful to stay out of the glow of the moon. Fortunately, another summer storm is brewing, scattering clouds across the night sky, blanketing the moon from time to time. The wind’s picking up, too, whipping through the forest, moving the trees in a ghostly fashion, as if it howls an ill-omened warning.

“Sweet Jesus be with us now,” the woman whispers. “The devil is on our heels tonight. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.”

I pale at her words, but she pegged it right. I couldn’t have said it any better if I tried. Cautiously, I glance around me, expecting to see the grim reaper himself, lurking along behind us, sickle in hand. My heart sprints up to my throat, stealing my voice, when I notice a glimmer of light darting through the trees to my right. I want to tell Quillan, but I have no voice. Fear has nearly disabled me.

Swallowing hard, I grab his arm and point.

“What?” he whispers.

“A light,” I manage, but it’s gone now. “I saw a light heading this way.” I no more get the words from my mouth when it appears again, much closer this time.

“Get down!” Quillan orders, pushing us to the ground. Adrenaline explodes inside me, taking my pulse to a whole new level. My gaze darts about the forest floor, desperately searching for cover. Quillan does the same, but it’s Mike who motions us to follow him as he crawls toward his discovery. I don’t see what he does, but I trust his judgment.

Quietly we hunker down, making our way to a partially fallen tree. The trunk is split in two. Half of it is black, as if hit by lighting in days past, the other half is covered by a blanket of Spanish moss, providing an excellent curtain for us to hide behind.

Quillan sends the four runaways in first, before motioning me to follow, and then points at Mike who presses up against me. Quillan ducks in last. We crouch down, every one of us holding our breath at the sound of snapping twigs and heavy footsteps. The noise launches the woman into a heart-wrenching prayer of deliverance. The men from Georgia are hot on our trail. The lights from their torches are so close I can feel the heat of the flame as they move slowly in front of our leafy curtain. They stop and I catch my breath. It’s just a matter of minutes until we are discovered, if we haven’t been already. I hold my breath. What are they doing? Then a horrific thought sends me into a panic. It would be in their nature to set fire to our little moss-covered hiding hole. The thought of being burned alive reengages my claustrophobia, and I think I might hyperventilate until a small warm hand slips inside of mine. I look down, and all I can see are the eyes of the girl looking up at me. I hug her close and smile, forcing back my fear. I don’t know her name or anything about her, other than freedom is something she has never known. She is an innocent child, yet she is being hunted down like a common criminal because in this era of our history, her crime is having brown skin.

The scumbags get closer and the woman keeps praying, mumbling so softly I can barely hear her. God, on the other hand, must have excellent ears. In a matter of seconds, we are covered in a torrential downpour, putting out the torches, washing away the trail, and stopping the bloodthirsty men in their tracks.

“Thank you, sweet Jesus. Thank you, Lord.” Her prayer of deliverance switches to a supplication of thanksgiving.

The rain is falling in sheets, soaking us to the bone as the thunder shakes the ground beneath us. We hunker down a little longer, making sure the men are gone before Quillan leaves us to scout around. Mike hasn’t said anything the entire time. I am wondering what he thinks about the bizarre set of circumstances he has fallen into. I have a feeling he hasn’t shown the last of his wrath just yet. After a few minutes, Quillan returns, giving the all clear. We make our way to the carriage house, still utilizing every caution, just in case the Georgia men haven’t let the rain wash away their determination. I breathe a huge sigh of relief as we step inside. Never before would I have considered the Faulkner Estate a safe haven.

The back wall pushes open. It’s Miss Emily who pops her fiery-red head out. “Come, come,” she says with a wave of her fingers. We enter the passage and let the cargo go on ahead with Emily. She raises her lantern and leads the way, disappearing up the staircase on her way to the third floor. I don’t think she noticed Mike, at least she didn’t let on like she did. He, however, noticed her because in the glow of her lantern, his face lost all color, as if he was looking at a ghost.

After changing out of my wet clothes, I take to the hallway and scurry to the kitchen to round up some food for Mike. I wonder if it is smart to leave Quillan and Mike alone together in our room. Since Mike is partially emaciated, a full belly might make him a bit more pleasant.

The house is quiet except for the driving rain pounding against the windows. Lighting a lantern, I look inside the pantry and find a loaf of bread, a jar of honey, some raspberry jam, a hunk of cheese, and half a peach pie. I retrieve a basket and place my goodies inside. Grabbing a bottle of warm milk and a decanter of brandy, I head back upstairs.

Emily arrives the same time I do, entering in through the mirror door, noticeably stunned when she sees Mike.

“And who pray tell are you?” Caution decorates her words.

“Mike’s my brother,” I answer quickly, keeping Mike from blowing our cover.” He surprised me tonight. I wasn’t expecting him this soon.”

Emily smiles and glides across the room. “It’s an honor to meet Miss Averie’s brother. You are welcome to stay with us as long as you like.”

Mike doesn’t say a word. He merely stares, making an already awkward situation even more uncomfortable.

“The woman said the men got pretty close to you tonight,” Emily said, turning her attention away from Mike.

“They did,” Quillan says, coming out from behind the dressing partition. He’s changed into dry clothes and is putting his shirt on over his bare chest. I don’t know why I blush at the sight of him, but I do. I pray Mike doesn’t notice. I busy myself with laying the food on a table.

“Well, thank God for the rain.” Emily pops a raspberry into her mouth. “I hope it continues on through the night. You’re sure to have safe passage if it does.” With a slight nod, she smiles at Mike and disappears behind the mirror.

“Wow, that’s Emily Faulkner?” Mike finally speaks.

“Don’t even think about it,” Quillan warns.

“You’re an ass,” Mike strikes back while tearing off a hunk of bread. “Nice cover posing as Averie’s husband. Brilliant way to get her in bed with you.”

“Mike!” I protest, not allowing him to demean our friendship in such a manner. “It’s not like that.”

“Well, I only see one bed in this room. Where’s he been sleeping?”

“He sleeps with me, Mike, but we do only that—sleep.”

“Why are you explaining yourself to him, Averie?” Quillan asks, crawling into bed and patting my side, inviting me in. “I thought you said you weren’t his girlfriend.”

I’m tired, and I would love nothing more than to lie down next to Quillan and fall asleep for the next four hours before I have to traipse back through the woods and drop off the cargo. But I can’t. I don’t know why, but I can’t do it in front of Mike.

Quillan’s patting my side of the bed while staring at Mike. Mike’s staring back, cramming bread in his mouth, letting more crumbs hit the floor than make it inside his mouth.

Sighing, I head for the door. “I’m too tired for this. You guys figure it out. I’ll meet you at the carriage house in four hours.”

Slamming the door behind me, I head for Emily’s room.

Emily is more than happy to welcome me into her room. I thought my accommodations were grand, but they pale in comparison to the suite occupied by the rice princess. I’ve never met anyone like Emily before. If she were born in my time period, we would have become best friends. I’ve never had a close girlfriend before, other than my mother. Mike has fit the bill since first grade, but in our friendship, there are some things I can’t even share with him. It feels different with Emily. Maybe there is a certain safety in place because I know I will be leaving in a couple of weeks, never to return. I can say and do anything and get away with it. But the downside of that is…will Emily remember me after I am gone? Or will her life continue as if I never existed? How will our disappearance affect her and the Railroad, not to mention the savings and loan everyone thinks is coming to town?

She is eager to hear about my argument with Quillan, so like a couple of giddy high schoolers, we sit on her gargantuan canopy bed, hug fluffy pillows, and talk.

“I’m not really mad at Quillan,” I start improvising, making up a story off the top of my head. “I get frustrated at their boyish antics. Mike has never approved of our marriage because Quillan was not his choice of a husband for me.”

“Why ever not?” Emily seems surprised. “Quillan seems to be such an honest, upright gentleman.”

“He is.” I agree with her and start spinning a bigger tale. “Mike couldn’t get past his social status and felt Quillan’s family name wasn’t good enough for a Griffin.”

I’ve hit a chord with her. I see it in her expression. I’m patting myself on the back for taking this route.

“Quillan’s dirt poor and without a father. His mother is a lovely widow, struggling to provide for her six children. Mike convinced my family Quillan was only marrying me for my money.”

“Of course not.” Emily is quick to defend him.

“My father believed Mike and forbade me to see Quillan, threatening to cut me out of my inheritance if I continued.”

Emily’s eyes are wide now. I’m reeling her in.

“What happened then?”

I think fast. I have to make this good, convincing, a Lifetime original movie with a happily ever after. I should be able to do it. God knows, I’ve watched enough of the shit.

“Remember yesterday when I told you there would come a time when you would have to defend your love, and when you did, it would be worth it?”

She nods.

“You see, I was at Quillan’s house one day. His mother was reading from the Bible. I wasn’t paying much attention because my stomach was sick. It was a combination of the morning sickness and my fear of knowing I was carrying a child in my belly of a man my family forbade me to be with.”

Emily shifts and hugs her pillow closer.

“All of a sudden, Quillan’s momma reads the part that says, ‘We can have boldness in the Day of Judgment, because there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fears.’ She finished up by reading, ‘Fear has torment, and whoever is afraid is not made perfect in love.’”

Tears burn at my eyes when I recite this. I know these verses well. It’s what my momma read every night before putting me to bed. She did it to dispel my fears and prevent my nightmares. She was insightful enough to know my daddy’s abandonment made me feel unlovable. That, according to her, gave birth to every one of my fears. I’m really missing momma right now. Even though we are worlds away, I feel her presence in Emily’s room tonight, sitting right here on the bed with me.

A tear escapes, spills over, and splashes softly on the satin pillowcase nestled against me. Crying is definitely contagious among women. My tear has no more made its grand appearance, when Emily’s lip begins to quiver. The next thing I know, she’s dabbing at her eyes with a soft lace handkerchief.

“Well, after hearing Quillan’s mother read the passage from the Bible, I got up and went home. I figured this was to be my Day of Judgment, and I wanted the boldness I was promised. I pushed my fear aside and faced my daddy straight on. I told him I loved Quillan Robison, and he could keep his damn money, that my love couldn’t be bought. Then, I told him I loved him, too, and I wanted to give him something none of his money could ever buy…a grandchild. I told him I was leaving with Quillan, and if he wanted to be a grandfather to my child, he could be, no money involved, because my love didn’t have a price tag on it.”

This is Emily’s first Lifetime original movie, and true to form, she has her hands covering her mouth and her eyes are wide in astonishment. She’s sobbing now. “Oh, dear sweet Averie, what happened next?”

“Quillan and I went and got ourselves married. I was living at his house with him and his momma for three days when daddy showed up. He looked different than I’d ever seen him. He apologized, said he was wrong.”

“Oh, Averie, you are truly the bravest person I know.”

I laugh at her proclamation. I’m still a coward, and I know it. My made-up stories are simply the fantasy life I dream up for myself. I couldn’t even innocently lie next to Quillan in front of Mike. I’m pathetic.

“Did you really say damn in front of your daddy?” Emily asks me, her hands still partially covering her mouth.

“Yes, damn it, Emily, I did.”

She falls back onto her feather mattress, laughing hysterically. We lay there, laughing, before her mood turns somber. “Averie?” she begins, and I know it’s coming.

“Yes.” I hold my breath.

“I’m carrying Lunar’s child.”

I swallow hard, and my heart races. The next few words we exchange could be vital in saving everyone’s life. Part of me wants to quickly change the subject, avoid this difficult conversation. But this is my day of judgment for Emily, so I lay here and wait, hoping to God I can say the right thing.

“Congratulations,” I whisper.

My response brings her up to a sitting position. She stares at me, dumbfounded. Damn it, I’ve blown it already.