Josie lightly touched her neck with her fingertips. “I will be,” she said hoarsely.
Aunt Tia motioned for her to follow and opened a door, leading Josie into another dim room. A whiff of citrus and nutmeg mingled with the faint scent of kerosene. Aunt Tia set down the lamp and lit another, casting a soft, orange glow around them.
Josie blinked, adjusting to the light as she took in the parlor’s interior. Deep burgundy damask wallpaper adorned the walls, thick brown velvet curtains framed the windows, and mauve settees complemented the delicate pink and blue china with floral patterns displayed around the room within the clear glass cabinet.
“Sit down, and I’ll fetch you some tea.”
Josie eased onto the soft settee, listening while her aunt hobbled away, the tap of her cane fading down the hallway. Hands in her lap, Josie peered around her aunt’s parlor again,observing the paintings above the tiny fireplace’s mantle and a large photo of Josie’s great-grandmother, Helena Callahan. The woman’s golden ringlets framed her pale, round face, and her features matched Josie’s late younger sister, Susannah. The nose was the same, sharp along the edges yet narrow at the bridge. Josie sighed inwardly and leaned back, realizing how long it had been since she sat in this parlor.
Before the war, of course.
Everyone was high on hope when it finally ended, but the danger and violence never quite concluded for Josie. She had fought hard against the war within the walls of her home, but it had never been a home she could truly call her own. Josie and her family lived in Asheville on their plantation,Belle Vallée, the most beautiful place in the world until the Yankees destroyed everything in her life.
Then the real monster took everything from her.
Aunt Tia hobbled back into the parlor, carrying a tea tray. Josie quickly stood and took it from her. “Here, let me.” She balanced the tray with one hand while guiding Aunt Tia to her seat with the other.
Her great-aunt eased onto the settee. “Thank you, dear.”
Josie set the tray on the table beside her aunt. Before she could pour the tea, Aunt Tia patted her hand. “Sit down. Let me handle this. You need your rest.”
Josie obeyed, though she found it ironic that she was the one told to rest. Aunt Tia was just as she remembered—stubborn. She poured Josie a cup of tea and twirled her spoon around in it for a moment.
“Here.” The cup rattled atop the saucer from the elderly woman’s shaking hands. “This will make you better in no time.”
Josie sat in silence, sipping the hot beverage as it soothed her bruised throat. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Aunt Tia’s prying gaze. Even her stare raised goosebumps on Josie’sarms, but she understood her aunt’s concern. Aunt Tia would undoubtedly have countless questions, and Josie would find herself burdened with answers that were too painful to explain.
“Is he looking for you?”
Josie shook her head, placing her teacup on its saucer. She shut her eyes, remembering the terrifying event hours ago. Her husband, Marcus, had been more violent than usual. Drunk, yes, but other concerns set him off. Aunt Tia and Josie had been secretly corresponding for months due to his dislike of the woman. When he found one of Aunt Tia’s letters, begging Josie to move in with her, he had been heated with rage. He wanted to beat sense into her, as he had done hundreds of times before. That was until Josie took action and made her escape.
“He won’t be hurting me again . . . or coming here.” She placed her hand on her abdomen as her stomach churned. Josie pushed her tea away on the table beside her, unable to take another sip. She wanted to deny the truth—accept it all as a dream—but it had been real.
Mammy’s scream.
Josie’s grip on the stair rail, trying not to faint.
Aunt Tia’s eyes widened. “Did you?”
Josie looked into her aunt’s aging brown eyes. She didn’t have to say the words aloud. The truth was too hard for her to admit herself. Josie nodded slowly, acknowledging her actions for the first time.
“My goodness,” Aunt Tia gasped, her palm covering her mouth. “How?”
Josie looked away, biting her nails. “He wanted to kill me. He was determined this time . . . He said I’d been no use to him.” Josie closed her eyes, drawing in a breath. “Last night was his final straw.”
Aunt Tia leaned forward and removed her hand from her mouth. “But . . . the baby? Did he know? Surely that would have changed his mind.”
Josie’s eyes stung. She rubbed her stomach with her thumb. That innocent child seemed safe within her, but in truth, it wasn’t. Nothing inside her could be safe. She wasn’t a safe vessel that offered protection. She was a broken one. Her womb hadn’t saved the other three pregnancies, even when Marcus hit her with knowledge of what it might do.
“You’re not strong enough!” he screamed. Josie was always doing something wrong. She tried to obey him, but it wasn’t enough. A man like him could never be pleased, making survival impossible, not without consequences.
“No, and he wasn’t going to. Seeking refuge with you was my first step, but now . . . I don’t know what to do.”
Aunt Tia wrapped her arm around Josie. Josie sank into her embrace, resting her head on her aunt’s shoulder. Aunt Tia sighed, rubbing the back of Josie’s head. “I’m going to write to Mammy and tell her to keep this matter quiet until we have your problems solved.”
Mammy.Josie’s tears fell faster. Poor Mammy had not been part of this, yet she was caught in the middle, having discovered Josie over Marcus’s lifeless body. No one else knew the truth—only the two of them.
“Send me word when yuh’re safe,”Mammy had whispered before Josie boarded the carriage. There was no telling what would unfold once the sheriff knew of the death. Someone who killed a man as important as Marcus wouldn’t be let off too easily. And with Josie’s immediate disappearance, she would be the prime suspect.
