I glance back to the secret door. “Then what am I to do? With no explanation, I am useless.”
“Sit. Sit next to me.” She flaps her arm like a raven’s wing, patting the bed. “Sit with me and tell me why all my clothes are gone.”
I scratch my head but remain standing. “There’s a bruise to your face and you are concerned about missing gray frocks.”
“They were mine. Bought with my money.”
“But you are to be treated better than a wife. I believe those were your words. So expensive gowns are to be yours.” I gesture toward her robe. “How did they miss this rag?”
Her head droops. “Your mother happened to see my distress. She gave me this to wear.”
“My mother did this to you? Put you in a nun’s habit? Ithoughtyou two were getting along.”
“Perhaps she wants you to banish me to a nunnery.”
We both laugh, and it feels good. My chest loosens a little.
Then she wiggles her little finger at me. “My rules, Jahleel. I want you to come to me. Your mother encouraged me to ask for what I want.”
Curious and a little unnerved, I sit beside her. My fingers slip away from my cane to her, stroking the tightness of her freshly washed curls. Her parted tresses expose an oiled scalp that smells of coconut. Even in paper curlers, Katherine’s beauty can never be denied.
Her expression gives nothing away, like I couldn’t possibly remember that she’s ticklish on her stomach, has a small mole on her left breast, freckles down her back, or likes strong hands on her thighs.
Not even going to check if her feet are bare and ready to assist her long legs wrapping about me.
“Jahleel, you don’t look comfortable.”
That adjoining door seems miles away. “I am?”
This woman kneels in front of me. Her hands fist on my lapel. “I don’t feel fit to read to you, unless this is what you want? A nun reading bedtime stories?”
She’s talking about nuns while that bulky robe slips off her shoulder? “Just tell me what I don’t know. That’s what I want.”
My eyes meet hers, dark circles with dots of gold. She turns away, but says, “I was taunted and pelted with rocks while driving my dray. A pebble struck my face. Lost my father’s watch. So horrible. Please don’t be upset. Remember my rules.”
Does one tell a raging bull not to strike? A lion to put down its dinner? “But this is my house. I’m angry. I want to rip someone to pieces. I hate that someone called you names and brought violence to Wilcox Coal.”
“They took Papa’s watch. It will be sold or melted.” She’s trying not to cry.
Yet when I stroke her cheek, she sobs. I think she may drown with hopelessness.
“Tell me to avenge you, Katia. Tell me to try.”
“No. I didn’t want you to know. I feared your reaction. I feared that the evil outside your house would take what we have in here, your health. Let them destroy me.”
Can’t she see I am destroyed? Every time she coddles me and ties my hands behind my back, I feel dead.
“I should let you rest, Lady Hampton.”
“What? You’re upset with me because of the business. It’s mine, all that’s left of my father, a wonderful man. He met your criteria, well off, great sense of humor, and he wanted each of his daughters to be bold.”
“I’m upset but not at the business. I take pride in what you take pride in.”
Her head rises. “Then you’re ashamed of me. Of what I’ve become.”
“Neuter me then, Katia. You don’t want me or my emotions. Hear my voice as I try to sound reasonable.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
