last we can be formally introduced,” Aunt Bessie said. “I am pleased you feel strong enough to join us.” She made an elegant, sweeping gesture with her hand. “May I present my nephews, Calhoun, Barclay and Darwin.”
The three men nodded stiffly.
“Come and sit,” Aunt Bessie invited. “Miss O’Neil, take the seat beside me. I should like to hear more about the adventure that caused your injury.”
Fiona shot a glance at Dulcie before taking the proffered chair. She was aware that the three men had suddenly taken a keen interest in her conversation as they seated themselves.
“Aye,” Fiona said softly, “’Twas indeed an adventure. When the storm broke above us, I thought we’d breathed our last. Imagine my surprise at waking up in a fine bed surrounded by such luxury.”
“Will your family not be worried?” Aunt Bessie asked sharply.
Fiona’s brogue thickened. “I’ve no family here in America. And no one to worry over the likes of me. Only Dulcie and Starlight and the children. We look out for one another.” Her loving gaze swept all of them.
The Jermain family saw that affection returned in the eyes of their guests.
Aunt Bessie summoned Robert, who entered carrying a silver tray. When he lifted the domed lid, the room was suddenly filled with the fragrance of roast turkey with sage dressing and wild rice.
“Robert can work wonders with wild game,” Aunt Bessie boasted as he circled the table.
Dulcie was grateful for his presence. Though she had warned Fiona and Clara about Aunt Bessie’s sharp tongue and keen powers of observation, she was not eager to see the little girl go through the same interrogation as Fiona. She was, in fact, determined to keep Clara as far away from Aunt Bessie as possible.
As if reading her mind, the older woman pinned Clara with a look and asked, “And how about you, child? Are you also without family?”
“This is my family,” Clara said solemnly. “Dulcie and Fiona and Starlight, and Emily and Belle and…Nathaniel.” The little boy’s name was spoken reluctantly, as though she regretted having to consider him family.
“And no one searches for any of you?”
“Searches…?” Clara turned wide eyes on Dulcie before lowering her head to stare at a spot on the table.
Robert chose that moment to pause beside Clara’s chair.
“Help yourself, little missy.”
When her hands began to tremble, Dulcie took the serving fork and filled Clara’s plate and then her own.
“Thank you, Robert,” she murmured. He would never know how grateful she was for that little interruption. Or had he done it deliberately?
As he took his seat at the table, Dulcie turned to Aunt Bessie. “I hope you don’t mind if we ask a blessing upon our food?”
“Do you really believe He can keep track of so many of us, Miss Trenton?” Without waiting for a reply the older woman turned to her middle nephew. “Would you like to lead us in prayer, Barclay?”
“I’m out of practice,” he said as Dulcie and the others clasped hands beneath the tablecloth, “but I’ll do my best.” He paused. “Heavenly Father, bless this charming company, especially the two who have been given the strength to finally join us, and bless this fine food, which You have so generously provided.”
“Amen,” chimed in the others.
“I see your oratorical skills did not fail you,” Aunt Bessie said dryly. “Now if only you could pass them along to your brothers.” She turned to Cal. “How is the planting coming?”
“Slow.” He dragged his gaze from Dulcie, who had taken great pains to soothe the anxious little girl beside her. There was more going on here than met the eye. All of them were afraid of something or someone. He pulled his thoughts back to his aunt’s question. “The storm ruined one field of seedlings. That set us back about a week or more. Looks like another storm is brewing. If it hits, we’ll probably have another washout.”
“What we need are a dozen more field hands,” Barc said wryly. “Dar and I can’t keep up with Cal’s plowing. He’s like a man possessed, working from sunup to sundown. I believe he’d work through the night if he could.”
Nathaniel’s head came up. “I could help,” he said around a mouthful of sweet potatoes.
Barc’s eyes warmed with amusement. “You’re not quite what I had in mind, lad.”
“But I’m a good worker. Tell him, Dulcie,” the boy pleaded. “Tell him I could help.”
She studied his earnest expression a moment before saying softly, “Indeed you could, Nathaniel. In fact—” her voice rose with excitement “—we could all help with the planting.”
“It isn’t fit work for women and children,” Cal said sternly.
“But—” Dulcie began.
“I quite agree,” Aunt Bessie said emphatically.
From the tone of her voice, Dulcie knew the subject was closed.
“And furthermore,” the older woman went on, “I have repeatedly instructed you children to speak only when spoken to. I hope I should not have to remind you again.” She stared pointedly at Nathaniel. “Especially when your mouth is full.”
“Yes’m,” he said, ducking his head.
“Robert,” Aunt Bessie said sharply, “we will take our coffee and dessert in the parlor.”
With that command, she swooped from the room on Cal’s arm, leaving the others to follow in her wake.
When they entered the parlor, Fiona decided to ask about the portrait above the fireplace. “Who are these handsome people?”
“Our parents.” Barc’s tone was warm with affection.
“Cal looks like his father,” Starlight said.
“Indeed he does,” Aunt Bessie agreed. “And he was named for him. My brother, Calhoun, was a well-respected judge here in the Carolinas. Barclay and Darwin more resemble their mother. Catherine was a true lady, educated in the finest schools and a much-loved teacher herself. From the day she married my brother, she became my best friend. I miss her every day.”
“Have they been…gone long?” Starlight asked hesitantly.
“Three years now. Catherine followed Calhoun to the grave by less than a month. I will always believe she died of a broken heart.” Aunt Bessie sighed. “Brought about, not only by the death of her dear husband, but by the fact that all three of her sons were off fighting, and not one of them could be here in her hour of need. That damnable war,” she muttered as she sank into an overstuffed chair and was rewarded by a gasp from little Clara at her profanity. Her voice rose. “I shall never forgive those Yankees for what they did to my beloved South.”
“Not
