Civil War Women in Love: Lesbian Lovers Throughout Time Series, Book 3 Read online

  Surprised at her mother’s reaction, Jane retreated. Lowering her head, she did what she knew a good Southern girl was supposed to. She apologized. “Yes, mother. I’m sorry.” Deciding to throw in a bit more for good measure, she shook her head. “I don’t know what got into me.”

  Retrieving her sewing and face flushed with the emotion of the encounter, Evelyn studied her daughter. “I don’t know either, child. I think it’s time you took a little more interest in some of these fine young men who come to court you and not worry about childhood playmates. You’re one of the oldest young women not to have married and people are starting to talk.” Evelyn was glad to change the subject.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jane said, forcing the words. She loved her mother but was ashamed of her. How could she worry about matchmaking when a young woman her own daughter’s age was likely to be attacked at the next opportunity? How could she allow it? How could Jane?

  * * * *

  At dinner, Jane made her way down to the table. Her eyes were puffy from crying. Maddie served the family as usual and noted with a quick glance that Miss Jane did not look happy. Her daughter hadn’t been happy either after her first day in the field. As a mother, the prior day had been painful—sending her child to the field and dealing with her son, who had had an accident in the same field. No one had told Maddie about Banes’ attempt to attack Kenda, trying to spare their mother who already bore so much.

  Evelyn saw Jane’s swollen eyes and sighed loudly. “Rushton, dear, I suppose you’re wondering why our little Janey looks a fright.”

  Rushton hadn’t in fact noticed, but once his attention was directed that way, he became concerned. “Well, what seems to be the problem, darling?” he asked. A shrewd business man and a long-time slave owner, Rushton could be a hard man, but not when it came to the apple of his eye, Jane.

  “Apparently, one of your foremen tried to have his way with Kenda yesterday. You know she went to the field at long last. You must speak with your men, they can’t behave like animals, after all,” Lydia said. She glanced at her daughter.

  Jane realized that her mother was trying to make things right not only for Kenda, but with her. A plantation owner’s wife had her place, but Evelyn was doing what she could for Kenda and by extension, Jane. Jane looked at her mother with new eyes and a warm nod.

  Maddie froze for a moment as she made her way around the table serving the family. It was the first she had heard of the attack on her daughter. She quickly recovered and kept moving, her face impassive. Jane watched Maddie, a near-mother to her after all of these years and wondered what kind of world she lived in where a mother had to ignore a near rape of her child lest she upset her owner.

  “Is that so? Probably was Banes, he can be troublesome,” Rushton said. He took his whiskey glass and threw back a long swallow. Patting his daughter on the hand, he smiled. “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of this. It simply won’t do to have my little girl upset.”

  Jane nodded her thanks. She wanted desperately to ask her father what he was going to do but did not want to jeopardize his offer to assist. Hopefully he would ensure Kenda didn’t have to work near that awful Banes.

  “Maddie, dear, can you make sure I get some of that gooseberry jam?” Rushton asked. Despite her pleasure at her father’s promise to take care of things, Jane couldn’t help but be disgusted by his seeming callousness. Maddie had just learned that her daughter had nearly been raped but all Rushton had for her was a request for jam, even if polite. I don’t belong here, Jane thought to herself. It wasn’t the first time.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Jane dressed and made her way to the breakfast table. She could smell eggs and bacon but there was something different. She heard another soft tone in addition to the usual staff and chatter.

  She hurried downstairs and took her seat at the table, where the rest of her family was already waiting for her. She greeted them. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” Rushton said kindly, smiling at his beloved youngest child.

  Maddie entered the room with a serving tray of eggs, bacon and freshly baked biscuits. Right behind her was a welcome sight—Kenda. Following closely with her head lowered subserviently, she carried butter and jam on a tray.

  Jane’s heart soared and she felt her tummy do a flip. Knowing better than to make a scene, she smiled quickly at Kenda and then looked at her plate. “Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered.

  Chapter Four—Sold

  The days that passed were uneventful, but sweetened by the knowledge that Kenda was at least safe from the foreman and would be in the house. The women found more and more opportunities to see each other. Jane knew she was manufacturing reasons to be near Kenda and had seen the odd look that Maddie gave her. She couldn’t stop if she tried, however. The threat of loss, even if brief, had been enough to cement Jane’s affections for Kenda.

  For her part, Kenda was quiet, hesitant even. It was as if her brush with life as a field slave had cowed her in some way, making her fearful of risking anyone’s displeasure lest she be sent back—away from the house, away from Jane. She also was deeply guilty about the injury her brother had inflicted upon himself to save her. The cut had turned out to be less grievous than had first seemed the case—he was already walking again, but he nonetheless experienced significant pain.

  It was on a Thursday that Mr. Piatt arrived at the plantation. He had come to make a land deal with Mr. Rushton and the men had been holed up in the study for most of the day. Loud voices could be heard from time and time and the entire household could sense the tension. Kenda was charged with bringing the men sandwiches late in the day and nervously entered. She was thankful to Mr. Rushton for letting her come back to the house but he was a presence to be reckoned with and she didn’t relish entering the room where the men had been fighting on and off about terms of the deal. Waiting to be recognized, Kenda stood in the grand room’s entryway.

  “Come on in, girl. I suppose we could use a bit of nourishment to continue the arguing, right, Franklin?” Rushton said, with a wink at his counterpart.

  Chomping on a cigar, Franklin scowled. A huge man with a rotund stomach and facial hair that seemed to constantly capture whatever his last ample meal had been, Franklin Piatt squinted at the bottle of whiskey on Rushton’s desk. He waved at the two empty glasses nearby. “I suppose a refill of liquid nourishment would suit me well enough.”

  Rushton was only too happy to oblige. Drinking at half of the pace of his bargaining partner, he knew a deal was near and if it went through, he was about to become even more rich than he already was.

  Kenda brought the tray to the men and placed it on the desk. Keeping her head bowed, she spoke quietly. “Anything else, sir?”

  Before Rushton could answer, Franklin did. “Well, well, well. What have we here? This is a fine looking woman, Rushton. Where have you been keeping her? My household could use a fine woman like that.” His eyes were all over Kenda, this much she could tell even with her eyes cast downward.

  “That will be all, Kenda,” Rushton said by way of dismissal.

  Kenda left quickly but something held her back. She did something that could easily result in her being beaten and returned to the field without a second thought—she stood with her ear to the closed door to the study and listened. She had a feeling that the conversation that the two powerful men were having was going to affect her life. She was right.

  “I want that one.”

  “Now, Franklin, she’s been with the family for years. Pick another.”

  “That one.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “I’ll take the girl and you can have the land at your last proposed price.”

  “Sold.”

  * * * *

  Jane made her way to the kitchen when the evening meal was being prepared. “Just want to see what was for dinner,” she said to anyone who would listen. When she saw Kenda, her heart dropped. Something was wrong.
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br />   Kenda went to the large pantry and Jane ducked in behind her. “What’s wrong?” she whispered urgently.

  Kenda looked around, her eyes wide with fear and stress. “I’m running away tonight.”

  Jane’s hands flew to her mouth. “No! You can’t!”

  “I have to. Your daddy’s selling me. Selling me to that giant old man whose eyes feel like hands when he looks at me. I’m running away, Miss Jane.”

  Jane’s decision was made—it had been since she had gotten old enough to realize the depth of her feelings for Kenda. “I’m going with you.” She expected an argument from Kenda, protestations that she was being silly. She got neither.

  Kenda grabbed Jane’s hand and squeezed it, smiling broadly. “I was hoping you’d say that. But are you sure? It’s plenty dangerous.”

  “I’m going.” Jane’s tone was final. “Meet me tonight at the backside of the barn after it gets dark.”

  Kenda nodded, hardly believing what was happening. They would leave together—where they were going or how long it would take were unknowns. Kenda didn’t care—she would be with Jane, not Miss Jane, at last.

  Chapter Five—Escape

  Jane was full of nervous energy. In her privileged, comfortable life she had never contemplated, much less carried out, any sort of bold action. What she was doing tonight, however, was beyond bold. She knew it could get her and Kenda in far more trouble than a simple scolding from Mother. They were risking their lives.

  The still quiet night was hot as always and the Liston house was asleep. At least Jane hoped so. She had gathered just a few belongings, her Bible, a small blanket, matches and a water canteen, bundled inside of a small bag. Turning to look at her bedroom, she took one last gaze at the comfortable environment, knowing she would likely never see it again. Creeping quietly toward the staircase, she paused. She longed to tell her parents where she was going and why, to save them from worry and pain but knew she couldn’t. To do so would guarantee her virtual imprisonment the plantation and who knows what fate for Kenda. They wouldn’t understand, they could never understand. The thought of Kenda brought a pleasant ripple through Jane’s body and she felt herself smile, in spite of the dire events that lay before her.

  The silence of the house was interrupted by snoring—one of her brothers no doubt. Kenneth in particular slept hard, Jane knew. She touched his door gently, as if her touch could convey her sorrowful good-bye. Her eyes moved to the room at the end of the hall and she found herself moving quietly toward the door. Taking a deep breath, afraid that even her breathing would be enough to foil her plan, she opened the door slowly. A squeak from its hinges stopped her in her tracks and nearly stopped her heart as well. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable gruff sound of her father’s voice asking who was there. But there was nothing, save Kenneth’s buzz-sawing. Peering inside, Jane’s eyes welled with emotion as she saw the shapes of her parents under the covers. They had no idea of course that their beloved daughter was escaping from their safe home, never to return. Was she doing the right thing? She wondered. She longed to curl up with her parents, as she had when she was a little girl, trusting that their arms would keep her free from all harm and all pain. Touching her fingers silently to her lips, she kissed them and waved at her sleeping parents. I love you both so much. I’m sorry, she thought. Not daring to close the door and risk the hinge again, she backed away and downstairs, without looking back.

  Downstairs, the house was so dark Jane had to feel her way to the kitchen, despite spending her entire life inside of those walls. She moved as quietly and as quickly as possible, adding biscuits, leftover ham, and fruit to her bag. Stepping to the back door, she took one last look at the home she had grown up in. Her eyes could see nothing, her heart—everything. Jane nodded to herself. She was meant to be with Kenda and Kenda was meant to be free. Those things could never happen at the plantation. Carefully lifting the kitchen lantern from its hook, she let herself out.

  It was funny how different the plantation looked in the dead of night. Instead of seeing the cheerful, white house with its gardens and grand porch, the darkness was foreboding, with each shadow harboring unknowns. Nothing felt safe and Jane felt as if she could face trouble at any minute. She realized her heart was beating fast and sweat had gathered at her brow, more than would be expected from just the humid night. Her mouth tasted of fear. Moving toward the barn, Jane realized with a start that this was how Kenda, and all of the plantation’s slaves, must feel all of the time, day and night. The realization, and guilt knowing that it was her family that was causing it, steeled Jane and her resolve hardened. She would leave this place and all that it represented. She could no longer be part of the Liston Plantation.

  Once at the barn, Jane found an especially dark spot in the rear, where she had asked Kenda to meet her. Kenda wasn’t there yet. Settling in to wait, Jane forced her breathing to slow down. To calm herself, she thought of Kenda. As had been happening lately, when she thought of the beautiful young woman, with her deep chocolate eyes, she felt at peace and a yearning at the same time. Soon, Jane heard soft footsteps. Kenda, she thought. She sensed her before she saw her and then she was there. The two women stood together in the darkness, silent. Kenda spoke first.

  “You sure about this?”

  Jane nodded, and then realized that Kenda couldn’t see her. “I’m sure,”

  she said with a swallow.

  “Cause there’s no turning back. At least not for me. We’re leaving behind our families, our lives, for good.” Kenda’s voice cracked on the last.

  “I want to go,” Jane said. She reached deep inside of herself and found peace, resolution and strength. “I want to go with you.”

  In the darkness, Jane took Kenda’s hand. Kenda squeezed it in return. “Then we go,” she said simply.

  Chapter Six—Running

  The day was hot and steamy in no time and the women were breathing hard with their exertions in making their way through the dense forest. Despite the danger that they were in, Kenda found her mind retuning again and again to the overwhelming realization that she was free—or would be soon, God willing. She’d never been able to decide anything for herself, nobody in her family had and she had long ago expected to spend her life just as her mother had. Except I would never have children, she thought. I’d never have a child who would have to live like we do. Now, here she was, racing through the woods, with her faithful friend, Jane, at her side. The thought of Jane made Kenda smile, which was completely out of place given their circumstances. Kenda knew she could be shot on sight, or worse, as a runaway slave woman. Still, Jane was right behind her, she could hear her breathing, labored with the constant movement. Taking the lead through the forest made Kenda feel powerful and protective of Jane at the same time—it was exhilarating.

  “I need to stop…a bit,” Jane said between breaths.

  Kenda turned to see Jane leaning against a majestic old tree. Looking up to try to gauge the time of day through the thick canopy, she nodded, once again feeling a thrill of excitement at being the one making decisions. “Okay. But not for long. We can’t afford to lose our head start.”

  Jane sank to the ground and rested her back against the tree. Looking around nervously, Kenda joined her. “You alright?” she asked.

  Jane smiled and nodded, not yet ready to spare her precious air on conversation.

  “Here,” Kenda said, offering her water skin. “Don’t drink too much, you’ll get sick.” Watching Jane sip at the water, Kenda found her own breathing was rapid as well and not just from their fast pace. There was something about the way Jane’s lips touched the skin, just so, pursing slightly to allow the still cool water to enter her mouth. Realizing she was staring, Kenda leaned back again. “You imagine if this tree could talk?” she asked, patting the substantial root structure at her side. “What’s this colored girl and white girl doing out here so far from home?” she asked, deepening her voice. “Don’t they have no sense?”

 
Jane laughed, finally catching her breath. “I guess this tree likely never saw anything like the two of us.” She caught Kenda’s eye and they held each other’s stare for a moment before Kenda looked away. A slave and the daughter of a slave making eye contact with white folks, even her sweet Jane, was uncomfortable because of its association with swift and sometimes brutal punishment.

  Sipping more water, Jane became pensive. Without looking at Kenda, she asked a question that had bothered her as far back as she could remember. “Do you hate me, Kenda? Because of my family owning slaves? Owning your family?”

  The woods fell silent, with only the occasional call of a bird interrupting the quiet. Jane wished immediately she hadn’t asked the question. She wasn’t sure if she could bear the answer. What if Kenda, her friend and trusted companion, hated her? Not when Jane was feeling something so strong for Kenda that she dared not say its name.

  Kenda continued absently feeling the gnarly roots at her side, looking off into the distance. She knew that her delay in answering was uncomfortable for Jane but she also knew that the answer to the question would be one that could very well define their relationship forever. It was certainly a thought that had entered her mind. She said as much.

  “I’ve thought about that over the years. Wondered how a girl as good as you could be part of something like, like your parents’ plantation. Wondered if I was just a fetch girl for you. Truth is Miss Jane, I mean, Jane, I don’t hate you because of your family. Truth is I can only bear my life with your family because of you. You mean somethin’ to me.” Kenda let the sentiment trail off, unsure of how to proceed.

  Jane considered the words. A flood of relief washed over her. Thank God she doesn’t hate me. “But what? What do I mean to you?” she pushed.