Josie’s eyes looked back at him, and to his surprise, he saw a fire raging in them. “I will never return there. Never.” She threw the letter across the table. “Someone else can have her money.”
Josie’s words were a relief, but something wasn’t sitting right with Travis. She was crazy not to accept the money. The fortune was more than Travis could ever imagine.
“But she left it toyou.You can live as a comfortable widow, independent.” Travis choked on a swelling lump in his throat. “Don’t you want that?”
Josie looked down, rubbing her stomach. “I want to leave that life behind. North Carolina is full of the nightmares I try to forget. Being there will only remind me of the woman I used to be. Weak . . . pathetic . . . fragile.”
Josie’s words lit a fire within Travis’s core. His jaw hardened; his teeth clenched. Who was this man? Who would brainwash such a lovely woman and treat her like scum? He was glad the man was dead; that way he could never lay a finger on his wife again.
“What did he do to you, Jo?” Travis settled in the chair next to her, ready to hold her if needed. He wanted to shield her with his body, to keep the darts of darkness away from her. He wanted to set her free from that horror she lived. Each time she flinched, it hurt Travis more than pain itself.
Josie stayed silent, rubbing her thumbs together. She closed her eyes. “Too much to even put into words. Marcus was a monster. Being free of his grasp after seven years is more valuable than any money I could receive.”
Travis had so many questions he wanted to ask, but he was careful not to bring up memories Josie wanted to forget.Seven years? She was so young. Travis thought about Ivy. Josie wouldn't have been much older when she married the man.
“I can’t imagine what you went through, but you won’t have that here. Not with me. I can promise you that.” Travis placed hishand over his wife’s. “We don’t have to talk about him anymore. Forget about him. It’s you and me now, Jo. And no one will ever touch you again. My body is your armory to be your protection. My home is yours to manage and live in.” He rubbed his thumb over her silk, smooth skin. “I vow, on my life and those before me, I’ll nevereverraise a hand to you. God as my witness.”
Josie’s lips curved into a small smile. “You’re too good to me, Travis. I don’t deserve you.”
Travis leaned in closer, lifting her chin and peering into her tear clouded eyes. All he wanted to do was dry them and prove how safe she was, more than by words of honor. Looking down at her moist lips, he nearly lost his breath at the thought of kissing them. What would they taste like? Perhaps strawberries—just as they looked. Oh, what he’d give to press his lips to hers, just once, to satisfy this aching curiosity.
Before he could have his answer, Gideon’s cry pierced the quiet of the cabin, pulling Travis back to reality. Josie immediately pushed her chair back, her attention shifting to the source of the sound.
“I should see to him.”
Travis watched as Josie left the room, his heart thudding against his chest. He leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands threading through his hair. What was he doing? Why couldn’t he stick to his plan?
For the first time, he began to understand his wife. Josie wasn’t just a woman who used him to cover her child’s paternity—she was a frightened woman seeking sanctuary from a past that constantly tore her apart. Deceiving him was her choice, but her morals were clouded by desperation.
Travis hoped that, in time, he could help mend those broken pieces of her life, but first, he knew he needed to confront his own wounds. And perhaps, if the Lord would allow it, he could push forward. He could no longer hear Sophie’s voice. He’d triedfor weeks to seek her presence, but each moment with Josie, she seemed to fade further and further away. Tears pricked in Travis’s eyes.
Why, God? Why must you torture me now?
Part III
Chapter Twenty-Four
Statesville, North Carolina; Mid-December 1872
Blastedexercises!Colson’sruleswould never work, even if he tried his best to keep General in bed with drugs. General wouldn’t be told what to do, and that’s why Colson would never step foot in the house again. General spent the last few months walking around his room, climbing stairs, and taking short strolls around the perimeter. The cane he used had helped him get on his feet, but now, it was time for action.
He made his way up the stairs to the floor where the servants dwelled—one being that lying Mammy. General strained as he climbed, though barely out of breath, but he continued on, no matter how much his muscles ached. And at last, he stood onthe top floor. He smiled as the drafty breeze hit his face. Mammy wouldn’t know what was coming to her.
He didn’t have any evidence to prove Mammy’s involvement, but he sensed it, like a man on a hunt. After months of confinement, he wouldn’t rest until he had his answers. Mammy knew where Josephine was. She really thought she could fool him by saying his wife was in Wilmington?
No. That was a lie Mammy would suffer for.
General may have had a head injury that damaged his cognitive thinking when he accepted the news, but he was no longer a slave to oblivion. He couldn’t wait until he saw Mammy’s face when he brought the proof before her eyes. He’d played her game for five months, and he was done letting her win. Once he got his answers, she’d suffer worse than when she was enslaved. It’d be easy to kill her, just like Martha and sweet little Myra.
The floorboards creaked beneath General’s weight as he proceeded down the attic hallway and stopped in front of Mammy’s bedroom. He slowly pushed the door open, noticing her absence.Perfect.Mammy was downstairs working in the kitchen. Now he’d begin his search, then torture her more by attempting the same game she was playing.
He bent over with a groan as a sharp cramp clenched his calf, pain surging through the muscle. Colson gave strict orders when it came to climbing stairs, but what did that fool know? Josephine could have already been home if it wasn’t for Colson prescribing that garbage. General didn’t need rest; he needed to rise above himself. He was strong, stronger than ever the more he pushed himself. The last thing he’d be was weak.
All General knew was when he had his wife back in his possession, she’d have it worse than before. Mammy’s room was impeccably tidy, with her clothes neatly folded in the drawers and her bed perfectly made. As General began his search, theorderliness vanished. He yanked back the covers, only to find nothing. Frustrated, he lifted the bed and hurled it against the wall with a crash. He tore through her dresser, scattering clothes across the room.Nothing but ladies’ things!His nostrils flared, exhaling hot, ragged breaths.He opened her closet door.
More dresses.
Nothing.
