A Cry at Midnight (35 page)

If he were strong enough in both reputation and wealth, he would be able to do anything he wanted. No one would dare shun Rose if her father was the richest man in the county. No one would dare talk about his wife behind her back if they thought he could find out and be offended--not if his anger meant financial ruin.

So he must save Black Willow Grove, replant the crop, and survive this rise in the Mississippi. The flood would pass them by, or, if it didn't, would do minimal damage to the plantation. He would be in a better position than his neighbors, and he would take full advantage of that position to increase his wealth.

The sooner he could claim Randi as his own, the happier he would be.

Happy. He hadn't thought of life in those terms much in the past fifteen years, but he did now. Despite the rising water and the rain that poured from the sky, he felt hope take root in his soul. Together, he and Randi would be able to accomplish all the things he wanted to make them happy.

#

Randi watched the new levee construction from the third floor nursery, holding Rose on one hip. The rain hadn't let up all day, but despite the miserable conditions and mud, the men worked on. Jackson was right there in the midst, his once-white shirt plastered against his body, his mud-colored pants sticking to his legs.

She knew he had to be tired; they hadn't slept much last night. She'd fallen asleep after lunch, unable to keep her eyes open while rocking Rose. Of course, she'd been relaxed by a warm bath and comforted by dry, clean clothes. Wet and cold would go a long way toward keeping Jackson awake. She just hoped the combination didn't make him ill. He was working darn hard to keep them all safe.

Would this muddy mass hold back water? She didn't see how, but Jackson knew more about the construction than she did. Too bad sandbags hadn't been invented yet. She could see how they'd be much more effective than simply packing dirt around logs or boards that had been driven into the ground.

Maybe she should mention sandbags. They might be able to sew up something. But how? Without sewing machines, the process could take weeks. They didn't have that long. In fact, if the history books were correct, they had only days.

"What am I going to do about you and your daddy?" she asked the baby.

Rose squealed and reached for the glass, her chubby fingers tracing the path of rain down the panes. Randi leaned closer to the window, watching as Jackson walked over to speak to the only other white man out there. The overseer, she suspected. He didn't seem to be a bad sort of man--not like the stereotypical evil, whip-wielding ogre in historical movies. That didn't make his role in the social system any less repugnant, though. She'd never get used to these class distinctions.

When Jackson turned and started for the house, Randi carried the baby out of the room and downstairs. If only for a minute, she wanted to see Jackson. They'd been separated all day after being literally inseparable all last night and this morning. Now she understood why people went on honeymoons--so the demands of the real world didn't interfere with what was really important. Her heart beat faster as she descended the stairs as quickly as possible with her precious burden.

She knew Jackson would feel uncomfortable being confronted while wearing his wet, muddy clothes, but she didn't let that stop her. He'd just have to get used to letting her see him no matter what he was wearing--or wasn't wearing, she thought with a smile as she turned the corner at the last landing.

"Jackson," she said breathlessly as she spotted him coming in the back door. She walked down the last few steps and stopped, hugging Rose tight.

"Randi," he said, his voice intimate as he walked toward her.

She felt his gaze skim over her body like one of his firm, sure caresses. Her skin heated up as she remembered exactly how he'd made her feel last night--all woman and well loved.

"I know you're tired and wet. I just wanted to come down and see you," she said breathlessly, feeling very much like a teenager with her first case of puppy love. However, her feelings for Jackson weren't fleeting. She'd thought she was in love once; this time she was sure.

"I'm filthy," he said, spreading his arms to show her the mud.

"And cold, I'm sure. Would you like to have dinner in your room again tonight?" she asked, knowing she hadn't kept the twinkle out of her eye when Jackson gave her a sly smile.

"I'd like that very much."

Randi smiled back, stepping out of his way so he could go on up the stairs. "I'll just go tell the kitchen your plans."

"Why don't you have a plate sent up for yourself, too? That is, if you wouldn't be uncomfortable telling the staff."

"No, I . . . I don't think I'd mind," she said, surprised that Jackson would want to announce their relationship to the world. She'd thought
he
was the one who was uncomfortable with any sort of illicit affair, but maybe not.

"I'll see you soon, then. Bring Rose in if you'd like. I haven't been able to spend much time with her."

"Okay." Randi's smile faded as Jackson continued up the stairs. He was acting rather strange for a man from this time. Suddenly, he was open about their relationship and being the model dad. What had caused this sudden change? She meant to gently question him later.

She pushed open the back door and walked the short distance to the kitchen. Within a few minutes, she'd given them directions to bring dinner for two to Jackson's room. Even though she used the excuse that he wanted to spend time with Rose, they looked surprised.

Randi didn't say anything. She shrugged, smiled, and hoped they understood. However, she wasn't about to make any excuses for the way she felt about Jackson. She loved both father and daughter, and she wanted to spend as much time with them as she could.

For as long as I have
, she reminded herself as she crossed the covered walkway to the house. She hadn't seriously tried to return to her own time, so she didn't know if she could. She couldn't imagine going off and leaving Jackson and Rose, even if she was convinced they'd survive the flood. But she also couldn't tolerate living in this century, under these restrictions, and knowing that the entire way of life was going to change before Rose grew into a teenager. Jackson hadn't believed her when she told him about the flood; he sure wasn't going to believe that a civil war would tear this country apart and probably cause him to lose his beloved plantation.

With a sigh, she continued on to her room. There she placed Rose on the hooked rug and wiggled one of the soft cloth dolls that seemed to follow them room to room. Kneeling on the floor, Randi retrieved her fanny pack, then her wallet. She turned to the empty sleeves where Rose and Jackson's portraits belonged. The time had come to place the sketches next to the rest of her family, because no matter what happened, Randi would always think of them as hers.

She carefully creased, then tore the paper along the straight edge of the table. With a kiss to each small drawing, she placed them facing each other in the wallet. "What's going to happen to us?" she asked, knowing there were no answers. Not yet.

She took another look at her family, then folded and snapped the wallet. Using a bit of her lipstick and mascara, she freshened herself up for an intimate dinner with Jackson. When she turned back toward Rose, the infant was rubbing her eyes.

"Tired, Sweetie?" she asked, reaching down to pick up the baby. Rose seemed to have grown in just the three short weeks Randi had been here. The little girl glowed with health, her rosy cheeks and porcelain complexion a perfect match to her name. "Just like a little English rose."

Humming her favorite tune, Randi carried the baby upstairs to see if Suzette had come back from her quarters. Sure enough, the nurse was waiting for them.

"I heard you were eatin' with Mas'r Jackson tonight," she said as Randi walked through the door.

"Oh, yes, we are. He's pretty tired from working and wanted to spend some time with Rose. He misses her, you know."

"Um hmm," Suzette said, unbuttoning her bodice.

"Where I'm from, it's not uncommon to have a less formal dinner. My mother only set a fancy table three or four times a year."

"Um hmm," Suzette repeated, positioning the baby across her lap. "I'm sure goin' to his bedroom is all about seein' this baby."

"Well, mostly," Randi said, trying to sound convincing. "Does it bother you to know I'm going to his room?"

"No, it don't bother me. I just hope you know what you're doin'. Mas'r Jackson is a fine lookin' man, but he's not gonna marry anyone but one of these fancy plantation women."

"Someone like Pansy Crowder."

"That's right. That's the kind of woman these men want. Pretty and just about as worthless as can be."

"She sure had a beautiful baby, though."

"She did that," Suzette said, stroking the baby soft hair, "but then she went and died."

Randi shrugged, not knowing what else to say. As far as Suzette was concerned--and she probably reflected the opinion of everyone who worked in the house--Randi fell in the gray area between slave and eligible wife. She shouldn't be a casual plaything for a wealthy planter, but she wasn't worthy to be his wife either.

"I don't know what to say, Suzette. I love Jackson."

"I know you do, but I'm afraid that man will break your heart."

Randi nodded. "You may be right, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't spend this time with him. I also realize that because of what happened to you, you're sensitive to the issue of masters of the plantations and the women they . . . love. But it's not like that between Jackson and me."

Suzette nodded, then switched Rose over to her other breast. "This baby will be finished with her dinner soon. Will you be takin' her to Mas'r Jackson's room?"

"Yes, I will."

"She'll be sleepin' soon."

"So will Jackson, probably. He looked pretty tired."

Ten minutes later, Randi carried a sleepy baby down to the second floor. Jackson's valet was leaving, closing the door behind him. She waited until the man went down the servant's stairs, then continued on to the bedroom.

She eased inside, noticing the room was lit with more lamps than last night. Again, dinner was spread on the table near the fireplace. A sense of
deja vu
drew her forward, but the load in her arms reminded her this was not yet a romantic rendezvous.

"She must be heavy," Jackson said, coming from behind the screen, belting his robe around his waist.

"She's getting heavier all the time. Especially this time of night. I think I've been carrying her around for hours." Randi handed the baby over, noticing that Rose immediately snuggled up under her daddy's chin.

"You probably have. Birdie says you spoil her."

Randi chuckled. "No more than I spoil my nieces and nephew."

"Do their parents complain?" he asked, rubbing his chin against Rose's downy blond hair.

"Heck, no! They'd be shocked if I didn't spoil them rotten."

"You come from an unusual family," he commented softly, but she heard no criticism. Perhaps they were making progress.

"Not really. Maybe different from your family. My parents aren't rich, or maybe even successful by your standards. But they are happy, and they raised good kids." She spread her arms wide and twirled about in the middle of the room. "Just look at me!"

Jackson laughed. Rose shifted in his arms. "She's sleepy."

"Suzette just fed her. Normally, I'd go ahead and put her down to sleep, but I know you wanted to see her."

"You're spoiling me too."

Randi grinned. "I'm doing my best."

Jackson smiled, then sobered. He looked at her with a hungry intensity that made her heart pound. "It's working."

She stared at his lean face, wanting him again. So soon, so much. "Why don't I take your daughter to her room?"

"I'll pour some wine."

Randi smiled, stepping close to take Rose from his arms. "I won't be long."

Jackson leaned down and kissed her lips, strong enough to cause butterflies to start fluttering but not so demanding that her knees turned to jelly. "Hurry back," he whispered, careful not to wake his little girl. "There's something we need to discuss."

"Really?" Randi leaned back, trying to steal a hint from is face.

His expression betrayed nothing, however. "Just come back soon. I want to have time to talk and . . . everything."

Jackson
settled across the table from Randi, the scene reminding him of last night in many ways, yet with such fundamental differences. For one thing, she no longer appeared as nervous. They both knew the extraordinary experiences to come, and he liked to think she was filled with as much anticipation as he.

"To another wonderful evening," he said, raising his wine glass to touch hers.

"And morning," she said, smiling in a seductive way that made his heart beat fast. They both took a sip.

"You will be merciful and allow me some rest, won't you?"

"Perhaps," she answered, "if you're very, very good."