Northern Star

Chapter 11

The Williamses refused to come in for refreshments as they pulled up in front of Perry's grandfather's house. She was thankful, for she had no idea what awaited her behind the closed doors. She hugged them both good-bye, promising to visit soon. When John stepped back to lift her trunk down, she handed him the envelope Abram had given her. He looked confused for a moment, then slipped the letter into his breast pocket.

Perry stretched and kissed his thin cheek. "Thank you for meeting me and bringing me here.''

Aging gray eyes turned serious. "It is I who am in your debt." He patted the papers beneath his jacket.

She opened her mouth to deny his statement, but his eyes encouraged her to remain silent.

Perry turned and climbed the steps to the double-doored entrance of her grandfather's house. She threaded her way across a large porch cluttered with wicker furniture. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw John and Mary Williams waiting at the buggy to ensure she was inside before leaving. In a few minutes Perry could stop asking herself whether or not her grandfather would welcome her. For soon she would know one way or the other.

Determination raised her chin as she lifted the knocker and rapped three times. The brass settled back against a door badly in need of painting.

Seconds passed. Footsteps somewhere within crept toward the door. She waited. Her journey had been so long, but these last few moments seemed endless.

The door creaked open, revealing an ancient servant in worn clothes. His thin black hand shielded his eyes from the bright sun, as though it had been years since he'd ventured into the bright light.

Deciding she'd be well into her thirties before he greeted her, Perry announced, "I'm Perry McLain. May I please speak with my grandfather?"

Shock registered on the old man's face as his eyes adjusted. He seemed like a figure carved in granite. She debated stepping around him, until he finally found his voice. "Yes, miz. We've been expecting you. Your maid, Noma, arrived more than a week ago."

He hesitated before continuing, "Miz, you sure is the image of your mama. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you was the ghost of Miz Allison." With this he stepped back to allow her to enter. "I'll get your bags. You'll find your grandfather in the study.'' A twitch of a smile cracked the dark stone of his face. "Study's the second door on your left."

"Thank you."

The old man moved onto the porch. "James, Miz. Ev-er'body just calls me Old James."

Perry followed him down the steps to say a last goodbye to the Williamses.

As she followed him back up the steps James lowered his head. "Your grandpa, he hasn't been feelin' too well, Miz Perry.'' His words were little more than a mumble as he struggled with her trunk.

Perry wondered if his statement was an apology or a warning. She hesitated a second before entering the cool darkness of the entry hall. All the shutters were drawn, giving the house a cavelike dampness. She moved slowly down the hall to her left, allowing herself time to study each room. It was obvious that no energy had been spent cleaning or dusting in years. Once beautiful furnishings were now covered with the dull hue of neglect.

The study door stood ajar, not wide enough to be welcoming. Perry straightened her jacket and lifted her chin and her hopes as she stepped inside. Stale smoke hung in the room like a low cloud, assaulting her senses. Papers and books littered every table and chair, in no apparent order. Discarded clothing and empty bottles cluttered the floor. An old man relaxed by a dying fire, his feet propped on a stool. For an instant Perry thought she was looking at a dusty painting. Everything about him and his surroundings was faded. His hair was a dull gray and his clothes a washed-out blue. He stared at her with watery, colorless eyes.

As Perry's presence registered on the old gentleman he stood slowly, holding the arm of his tattered chair for support. "Allison, you've come home," he whispered as a tear weaved through the lines of his wrinkled cheek. "Allison, my dear," he whispered again as a glass fell from his hand and shattered.

Perry ran toward him, tears spilling over freely as she realized his mistake. "No, Grandfather, I'm Perry. Allison was my mother." Her words didn't reach him. "I'm Perry, Grandfather," she cried again.

A flood of tears came to his eyes, along with a degree of awareness. He held his hands up to her. "Perry. You're Perry? Welcome, Granddaughter."

Perry moved into his arms, hugging him tightly. He smelled, as he had years before, of dust and tobacco. She didn't remember the smell of brandy, which now clung to him as thickly as a layer of sweat.

He patted her on the back as he held her. "I'm so glad you're home," he mumbled again and again.

Perry was uncertain if he thought he held her or her mother, but at this moment she didn't care. It was good to be welcomed.

In an explosion of noise the door flew open and Noma appeared, wailing and waving her arms like an overstuffed scarecrow in a tornado. She ran to Perry, tears streaming down her brown cheeks. "My baby, you're all right!" she yelled. "I knew Captain Williams would find you and send you here safely. He promised he would, but I was worried sick."

Perry left her grandfather's arms to be swallowed up in Noma's hug. As the slave cried, Perry tried to comfort her. "Oh, Noma, it's all over. We're together now, nothing else matters." What Noma had done suddenly didn't matter, now that she was safe. Perry thought of telling her the truth about Wade, but that would only torture Noma's thoughts.

Turning once again to her grandfather, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Please excuse me while I change. It's been a long journey." The weariness of the trip was lightened by the knowledge that she now had a place to stay and a grandfather who, if somewhat loose in his grip on reality, nevertheless welcomed her.

"Yes, yes, dear." The old man waved his wrinkled hand as though it were a rag attached to his arm. "I'll see you at dinner. Noma will show you to your room." As he spoke the last few words, he lowered himself back into his chair, exhausted.

Perry followed Noma up the stairs. They moved down the long hall to the last room in silence. The dark, brooding atmosphere of the house whispered through the hallway and clung to the pictures and ornaments in moody shadows.

The door hinges to the last room screamed from neglect as Noma forced it wide. "This was your mother's room, Miz Perry. I cleaned it for you. I'll have James oil the door tomorrow.''

Perry hesitantly slipped inside, half fearing what she might see, but the room was bright and lacy, decorated in shades of blue. Everything, from the bed to the dressing table, seemed to have been built to Perry's height. If rooms had arms, this one's would be open wide. "Oh, Noma, I love it. Look, there's even a room for a lady's maid over here." Perry ran around the room, clasping her hands in delight. A feeling of welcome seemed to touch her, a warm greeting from a mother she'd never known.

Noma swelled with pride. "Everything's just as it was when your mother left. I even washed a few of her dresses and hung them up for you, thinking you'd be showin' up with no clothes."

Perry touched a porcelain statue of a cat and thought of Molly. "I was very lucky to meet a nice lady." Then, remembering her grandfather, she asked, "Noma tell me, was my grandfather really glad to hear I was coming?"

"He seemed happy, Miz Perry. Only he do drink. I worry about where his mind goes from time to time." Noma shook her head. "He's more in the past than in the here-'n-now."

Noma sat down on a midnight-blue velvet-covered stool in front of a beautifully carved triple-mirrored dressing table. "The other blackies told me that after your mother left, your grandfather had this room locked. He had it opened when he heard you were coming. Old James told me hisself your mom went over that very balcony the night she ran away with your father."

"I never knew Mother ran away. That does sound romantic." As she spoke, Perry moved through French doors to a tiny balcony. She looked out over an overgrown, forgotten garden as she continued, "That might explain why Papa and Grandfather never were friendly." She thought of the time she'd seen the two men together and could never remember either of them speaking directly to the other.

Perry's mood lightened suddenly. She was safe and the war was over. She ran back to Noma and placed a protective arm around the old woman's shoulder. "Tell me, what happened to you after you left the barn?"

Noma stared at their triple reflections in the mirrors in front of her. "I hadn't gone a mile when I saw bluecoats everwhere. I hid out in the woods for two days before they caught me. I was plum figuring myself for coyote meat when this captain appeared. He questioned me pretty hard at first, till he learned I was from Ravenwood. Then he got real nice and said he was worried about-you. He said his folks were from around here and he'd find you and see that you were taken care of."

Turning her face to the windows, Perry answered, "He found me, but I'd already made plans to come back."

Noma wiped her eyes on her apron. "I were so worried."

Perry smiled kindly at Noma. Worry had aged the old woman in the short time they'd been apart. Having raised Perry, Noma felt responsible for her, as if Perry were a child. But Perry was no longer a child, and now she fought resentment for being thought of as such. Noma's mothering had almost cost her her life. Perry made a mental note to be more careful about what she shared with Noma in the future. As they talked, Perry told Noma little of her travels. The people she'd met and grown to love these past days would remain in her memory and her dreams.

The weeks settled into a pleasant routine. Perry and Noma spent most of their days cleaning and airing out the house. James and his wife, Sarah, who served as cook, were the only servants. All the others had run away during the war. James and Sarah were too old to change. They'd spent a lifetime at Three Oaks. It was home to them. The elderly black couple drew great pleasure from telling Perry all they knew of the history of the place.

In the afternoons Perry sat in the cool, overgrown garden and wrote letters to Molly. After the horrors of the war it was pleasant to relax while waiting for Andrew to return. Rumors circulated that many prisoners were still being held.

As the days grew warmer and life slowed to a crawl, Perry spent more time in the garden dreaming of Hunter and what might have been. She couldn't explain why, but even when talking with Noma she held back all information of Hunter and Abram.

Every evening Perry dressed for dinner in one of her mother's gowns and dined with her grandfather. The huge dining room had long windows facing the front of the house. She would watch the oak trees swaying gently in the summer breeze as her grandfather called her by her mother's name. He always called her Allison when he had been drinking heavily. On the evening they received news of Lincoln's murder, he drank almost all night. He was a man haunted by grief, looking for reasons to destroy what remained of his sanity. Perry, not knowing how to help, followed the example of all the others in the house-she ignored his drinking.

Slowly, as the days turned into weeks, a restlessness grew inside her. She'd stand each evening on her tiny balcony watching the sun splash light along the horizon. The warm breeze would twist invisible fingers through her hair, reminding her of the way Hunter had touched her. The longing to see him, to hear his name said aloud, became a physical yearning inside Perry. She knew her feelings toward him were hopeless, but she couldn't stop them from seeping into her thoughts and dreams.

She decided impulsively to pay the Williamses a call. After studying a map in the library she discovered she could travel on horseback and reach their home in half the time a wagon could travel. The trail was overgrown, according to James, but shady. By leaving before noon she'd reach the Williamses by three, if she traveled fast. Perry loved riding and had often spent all day on horseback, so she accepted the ride as a challenge instead of an ordeal.

"I'll be back by seven and have plenty of time to dress for dinner," she told Noma. Though Noma was not happy with the idea of Perry riding so far alone, she could not ride well enough to go with her.

Like most Southerners, Perry and her grandfather dined late in warm weather. In this way they could enjoy an evening breeze. Perry knew he wouldn't expect her down for dinner until eight or after.

Perry needed the exercise. Her body was well and strong, but for the last several nights she'd been unable to sleep. No matter how hard she pushed Hunter from her mind in the day, he returned at night. The memory of her lips touching his caused her many sleepless hours. Sometimes in the darkness she could feel his arms around her, his hand sliding up her leg, his deep voice whispering his pleasure as he touched her. Even when she finally fell asleep, sometimes she'd awaken with a start, ready to swear that she'd heard him calling for her. But the only sounds would be Noma's snoring from the room beside hers.

She felt a touch of guilt in realizing that the only reason she wanted to visit the Williamses was in the hope of learning something of Hunter.

Perry rode along the overgrown path, loving the wind in her hair and the feeling of being free. The dark green of summer cooled her mind. Her problems were pushed aside by the thunder of hooves beneath her. If Hunter were married, then he must forever remain only a part of her dreams. She must give him up. But if for some reason he was still unmarried, an island of hope remained in the sea of problems that separated them.

Just before three, Perry rode up to the house of John and Mary Williams. It wasn't a plantation house, as she'd expected, but a small two-story home set among a cluster of trees. Perry guessed the home had three, maybe four, bedrooms. She could see a small stream running to the left with a garden in midsummer growth beside it. The nouse looked warm and inviting, tne kind ot place Hunter, as a boy, must have loved visiting.

Mary and John greeted her as old friends. They were delighted to have Perry for company. Mary brought lemonade out on the porch and the three sat talking for almost an hour before they were interrupted.

A lone man on a huge black stallion approached from the road. He wore a dark blue uniform and his boots were shiny and oil-bright in the sun. As he moved along, the metal on his jacket twinkled, blocking his face from sight. Perry felt her body stiffen as she watched the lean horseman. It may have been dark when she had first met him, but she could never forget his wiry manner or the evil that no amount of sunlight could burn away from Wade Williams. Today his blue uniform was crisp, and he smiled broadly as he stepped down from his horse.

"Good afternoon, Uncle John, Aunt Mary. May I join your party?" Wade's smile never touched his eyes.

His step was light and casual, but Perry could feel him watching her, studying her with the same idle curiosity a boy shows an ant before he tramples it.

"Certainly, Wade," Mary said, standing to pour him some lemonade. "May I introduce our friend, Perry McLain. Oh, I forgot, Perry told us she met you once before."

Wade's eyebrow raised with an evil curve. "I'm sure I would have remembered such a great beauty as Miss McLain," he said questioningly, the professed innocence of his lie a slap to Perry.

Wade lifted her hand to his lips as Perry fought the urge to reach for his gun. "It w-was at a party in Philadelphia some time ago," she said stammering.

"Ah, I've attended many parties in Philadelphia," Wade replied, nodding his head at his uncle, as if bragging, "Do you live near my aunt and uncle, Miss McLain?"

"Yes," Perry whispered. "I'm staying with my grandfather on his plantation."

Perry said little the remainder of the hour. She was aware of Wade's eyes watching her constantly. He asked her direct questions about her grandfather and his plantation. Since Perry knew little, her responses were brief.

John and Wade talked of the many problems of Reconstruction. Both believed North Carolina would be a key state to watch, but they agreed on little else. Though John never raised his voice, his belief that his fellow countrymen had suffered enough was strong. Wade Williams took the side of many Northerners, even though his roots were Southern. He believed each state must pay and pay dearly. Perry knew men like Wade were hated even more than the carpetbaggers. He'd turned against his own kind in his quest for power. Now that the North had won, he wanted more for his Union loyalty.

Perry sat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, trying not to allow Wade's conversation to disturb her. He was like a leech sucking blood from a wounded animal. Finally she could endure no more of the talk. She pulled on her riding gloves with a sudden urgency to be gone.

As Perry stood to say good-bye, Wade rose beside her. "I'll see you on your horse," he said in a voice that sounded a little too much of an order.

"That will not be necessary, Captain Williams," Perry replied, hoping to discourage him. His presence had already destroyed her sunny mood.

"Oh, I insist, Miss McLain. It will be my pleasure." Wade held her elbow and began guiding her off the porch.

Mary stood on the first step. "Perry, would you be able to come to lunch next Saturday?" Her musical voice drew Perry's attention. Mary's eyes smiled hopefully as John's arm moved around her shoulders lovingly.

"I'd be happy to, Mrs. Williams," Perry replied as she moved toward her horse. Perry disliked knowing Wade was only a step behind her. The thought crossed her mind to pull her knife from her skirt pocket and order him to stay back. She almost laughed aloud as she thought of the shock such an action would cause John and Mary.

Without any encouragement Wade followed her to her horse. He gallantly helped her into the saddle. "I look forward to seeing you again." As he spoke, he applied painful pressure to her hand, which was resting on the saddle horn. Perry jerked the horse into motion. She wanted to scream that he would never see her again, but she was afraid the Williamses might still be watching.

Perry rode home at breakneck speed, desperate to get away from his evil presence. Later she tried to convince herself that he was not as evil as she thought, yet her impressions were strong, as was the feeling that she would see him again.