“For today, Father.”
“I’ll explain if you want to go inside,” Xander told her.
Her first thought was to leave the matter to him. But what would he share? That Laurent had bought chains and made insulting remarks, and a fight had nearly ensued? That she sensed the presence of evil every time he drew near?
“Please.” She touched Xander’s sleeve. “Say nothing to Father. His health cannot take it. I shan’t return to the warehouse alone. Surely that is caution enough.”
“I’ll ask him for your hand, then.”
Would he? Could so much happiness and heartache coexist in one day?
Stunned, she walked toward the house. Her mother was near the well, listening to Watseka and Oceanus tell of their picnic. Selah sought the empty parlor, still able to hear the murmur of her father’s and Xander’s voices outside.
With effort, she bent her thoughts toward the small knapsack to prepare for Shay. Some sweetmeats, perhaps. A trinket or two for him to share with new friends. Nothing that would slow Xander. Already she missed him. Though she tried to push today’s confrontation aside, it seemed to set the stage for another acrimonious encounter. Some retaliation by Laurent. ’Twas not only for herself she feared.
Removing her hat, she stole a look at herself in a looking glass. Pale as frost. Surely that bespoke her turmoil. And yet, Xander was even now asking for her hand—
“Selah.”
Xander had come into the parlor. Was he leaving? The day had flown. Four o’clock shadows were creeping across the courtyard behind him. Yet another goodbye. The harvest and the journey would soon be upon them. Time in all its sweet fleetingness seemed to gather round, causing her to impress his beloved features on her heart like flower petals between pages.
His voice held a jubilant beat. “Your father has given his blessing.”
“I didn’t doubt it. You’re like a son to him already.”
“When I return, we’ll name a day. Your parents are welcome to make Rose-n-Vale their home as well.”
Gathering her in his embrace, he kissed her more than once. These weren’t stolen garden kisses in the scattered light of pitch-pine torches. These were kisses of farewell and separation and longing. Hope and glad-heartedness and promise.
“Something to remember me by,” he murmured into the closeness between them, again smoothing that wayward flaxen strand beneath her coif. “Though I would rather take the pins from your hair...”
Never had he seen her hair unbound. Such was a husband’s privilege. Would he be surprised it fell nearly to her knees?
“I’ll stop on my way west to collect anything you have for your brother.” Taking her face between his callused hands, he kissed her lingeringly a final time. “Take steadfast care, Selah.”
Already she felt a widening chasm both inside her and around her, as if some protective buffer were being removed. “I wish I could go with you.”
“You do go with me, in both head and heart.” Looking like he wanted to kiss her again, he turned and left the house instead, calling for his horse and Oceanus. Both came posthaste, though Oceanus immediately asked when Watseka could play again.
Xander helped him into the saddle. “Mayhap on the Sabbath after our journey. We’ll likely meet at divine service.” Swinging himself up, he met Selah’s eyes.
“Godspeed.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’ll watch for you. And pray.”
Selah missed him. Missed him so much she pocketed her father’s pistol and rode with Watseka to Rose-n-Vale. There she earned the curious looks of farm managers and indentures as she stood apart from the fields and watched the last of the tobacco harvest unfold. Most of the crop had already been transported to Xander’s barns before he’d gone west. There it would cure for several weeks, allowing him to take Oceanus to the Powhatans. Lord willing, he’d return before the striking began, the next step after harvest.
Factor McCaskey approached. He and the farm managers had been left in charge during Xander’s absence. “Mistress Hopewell, what brings ye out on such a Hades-like day?”
Selah peered at him beneath the wide brim of her beaver hat as he swiped the sweat from his brow with a grimy sleeve. “Living in James Towne, I’ve rarely seen Orinoco cut, at least not on this scale.”
“’Tis a sight to behold, truly. And such an excellent harvest to boot.”
She nudged the horse nearer the biggest barn and stood in its powerfully scented shade. Since childhood she’d become accustomed to tobacco drying, familiar with its peculiar aroma, the very essence of Virginia.
“Marry you the tobacco man?” Watseka’s oval face shone with delight as she craned her neck round to look at Selah.
Selah reached into her pocket and withdrew the shell beads in answer. Wonder engulfed her. Here she was amid fields as far as the eye could see, poised to be Rose-n-Vale’s mistress. And Xander had graciously made provision for her parents. Would they all not benefit, coming under Xander’s protection by marriage?
“When I return, we’ll name a day.”
