Evelia was nearly jogging along the leaf strode path within the warm indigo night. Her large skirt grazed the ground and sent the leaves swirling as she moved through them. The path was flanked on one side by a crowded tree line where the shadows were so deep that only the outline of angular branches jutting from the depths of the woods could be seen against the sky. The waxing moon was hidden behind the tree line but added a deep blue and violet glow to the normally brightly colored flower strewn field on the other side of the path. The cacophonous symphony of cricket chirping filled the night air with a lilting song that filled her ears and fought to overpower her own confused thoughts. She shouted within herself trying to bring coherency to her thoughts over the song of the crickets which harmonized without melody.
She was supposed to be meeting Aidan, but she couldn’t bring herself to go there yet. She paused on the path and turned in place, sifting through the tangled events of the evening. After Aidan had left her, Rosie had helped straiten her dress and fix her hair while the silence hung rigidly between them. Evelia had known that Rosie had many opinions on the current situation but thankfully Rosie also knew that Evelia did not need to hear them. Every concern that Rosie had, Evelia shared, but marrying Mr. Blackmon was not an option. The problem was there were not many other options available.
As Evelia had left the room to make ready for the party downstairs, Rosie had simply placed a hand in Evelia’s and she tried to drink thirstily the courage that Rosie had attempted to silently impart to her. After a moment Evelia had dropped her hand and had moved down the hall to the grand staircase that dominated the main vestibule of her plantation home, but before she could turn the corner she had heard Rosie say softly, “No matter what Miss. Sheffield, I’ll be near ya’, and if ya’ be needing anything, I’ll be there.”
It had brought her much comfort as she descended the staircase to know that she would not need to face the evening alone. As she had descended the staircase she had been immediately ambushed by Cathleen, Mr. Blackmon’s younger sister.
“Evelia, you look extravagant. I haven’t seen you in ages it seems. Why have you neglected me so?” Cathleen grasped Evelia’s gloved arm and walked excitedly into the ballroom carrying Evelia in tow. She had worn a grand white dress that matched the silhouette of Evelia’s dress. Intricate black lace covered every inch of her obstructing the purity of the white with complicated yet delicate structures of black. Cathleen chirped away around her discussing all of the frivolous gossip of the day. At the time she couldn’t help but judge Cathleen. Cathleen spoke and yet said nothing. She had had to force a pleasant mask over her features as she listened to the nonsense that spilled from her mouth like an unstoppable stream. Now standing in the evening air, the obstructed moon illuminated the darkness just as Cathleen’s imperfections illuminated her own. Evelia used to enjoy Cathleen’s company and had partaken in the frivolity of privilege. What she hated in Cathleen she hated in herself.
When someone had asked her to dance, she had quickly agreed to escape from the repetitive tweeting voice that came to symbolize her own flaws. The ballroom had filled with guests and she found herself swirling stiffly around the floor like water swirling down a drain.
Evelia sighed at the memory, as the swirl of colors left her vision and was replaced by the bright blue night. The moon had begun to rise above the tree line, the tips of the tree limbs seeming to stab through the moon. She turned from the moon and stepped out into the wild flower field. She kneeled down and her dress plumed around her sending up the sweet smell of the disturbed flowers. Evelia closed her eyes and allowed the scent of the flowers and the sounds of crickets to calm her. How was she going to mend the broken pieces of the evening? Her father was her biggest obstacle. He was as unmoving and rigid as glass. Yet she knew that the tallest oak survived by bending in the wind not standing against it. True strength lay in ductility and she could not figure out how to add ductility to glass.
She recalled her father stepping in to tap the shoulder of the man she danced with, and had smoothly taken his place. He had smiled warmly at her with obvious pride and it had filled her with a moment of shame and guilt. They glided around the floor in silence and Evelia had shrunk in his presence. He seemed so sure that the night was going to go exactly as planned and not had taken a single minute to truly see her. She had plucked up her courage and asked him, “Father you look happy tonight.”
His smile had grown and he said with his nose high in the air, “I am happy. After the fire, I was so afraid that you were forever lost. But by some miracle you were plucked from the very jaws of death. Now that we have secured such a fine match in Mr. Blackmon, you and my legacy will finally be secure.” He paused to chuckle. “You can finally put away your intellectual hobbies and become a proper southern woman and mother. Nothing could make me happier or prouder.”
Yet again her father seemed to only see her as he wanted her and not who she truly was. “I am sorry that my education has been such a source of disappointment for you.”
The smile dropped from his face leaving a look of worry in its place. “Evelia, the problem is you put too much emphasis on that education. Being educated will not keep you secure in this world; a firm and gentle husband will.”
“Firm and gentle…” She could not bring herself to say anything more as the waltz came to an end. Her father bowed deeply to her and wondered back into the crowd. As she had looked at the back of her father’s head, Rosie’s face came into view. She had been carrying a tray of food but she took the time to subtly point at the clock on the wall. Evelia’s heart had constricted in her chest as she realized what time it was. She wondered as if in a trance to the large carpet lined staircase that flowed into the large main vestibule of the house. Cathleen had stood at her side as she watched Mr. Blackmon ascend the staircase. She twirled her fingers nervously as people began to crowd the vestibule. Some people crowded the entrances to the rooms adjoining the vestibule including the lounge and the ballroom. The doors and windows at the entrance had been thrown open to the wrap-around porch and people had stood looking through them. From the inside they had looked like portraits on a wall standing still and silent gazing up at the scene about to unfold on the large staircase.
As Mr. Blackmon climbed the last steps the large ash grandfather clock had chimed deeply behind her. The general murmur that pervaded the room silenced in a wave that swept across the room. She had not made the conscious decision to breathe quicker but it worked to her advantage. With one hand she fanned her flushed face with an embroidered fan and Mr. Blackmon took her other hand in his as he began reciting the speech he had obviously practiced and rehearsed. She let him get to what must have been the halfway point before dropping her fan with deliberate dramatization and gripping her side. She made sure to fall over onto Mr. Blackmon instead of to the floor where her dress would have swooped upwards displaying her underclothing to the entirety of the guest list.
An entire room of people seemed to gasp at once when she fell into Mr. Blackmon. As hoped he had immediately picked her up and carried her into an empty salon on the second floor. Fainting convincingly had been the easy part. Mr. Blackmon had been very concerned after the way she had reacted earlier in the evening. He thought that perhaps she was suffering from hysteria and he wanted to call the doctor at once. It had taken a lot of convincing to make him relent, but when he had, the subject matter again turned to his proposal. Only Cathleen was there with her but she was no comfort in this matter because when Evelia had informed him that she would not marry him, Cathleen had been the first to become irate. The idea that she would say no had never occurred to either of them and why would it? She had never given them reason to suspect that she would say no. The only thing that she could give them was that she didn’t love him. She had never seen Mr. Blackmon so angry and he had stormed from the room slamming the door hard behind him.
That was when Cathleen had turned to her crying. She had worn hurt disguised as anger on her tear-stroked face as she had yelled at Evelia. Evelia could no longer remember all of the things Cathleen had said to her in anger but she did remember the look on Cathleen’s face when Evelia told her it was because she loved another man. It was as if she had betrayed Cathleen just as much as her brother. Through a contorted snarl Cathleen had looked at Evelia and realized she was looking at a stranger. Once Cathleen ran from the room Evelia had felt the sudden urge to flee. There was no erasing this moment. Though they might still force her to marry Mr. Blackmon there would never again be the kindness that there once was. For better or worse she had made her attempt.
The evening had grown dark and clouds blew in from the coast masking the stars from view and obscuring the moon. She had made a stand and made her feelings and wishes heard, but she feared that it was all for naught. If she could convince her father that perhaps the plantation was better off in her hands instead of some wedding dowry, the situation may yet be salvaged. She could and would try, but she knew that he would never hear her words. Lost in her own thoughts she did not see Toby standing in the shadows of the trees. His hushed voice rolled from the tree line like the soft rumbling of thunder on the horizon. Though surprised by his sudden interruption of her brooding thoughts he had not frightened her. He slowly shuffled forward out of the darkness of the trees that completely enveloped him. Even once in the open she could barely see him except for the soft glow of the partially obscured moon reflecting in his eyes.
“Toby, what are you doing here? Where is Adan?” she asked as relief caused the tension in her body sink away.
“Back at my camp Miss Sheffield, I came here to wait for you.” He responded in a soft low voice that seemed to perfectly harmonize with the high chirping of the evening crickets.
She exhaled and stood, walking towards the large man with relief, confident in her safety for the moment in his presence. When she spoke however, her voice betrayed her anxieties coming out sharp and tense. “Thank you Toby, you have done me a great kindness by risking your own safety with the protection of Adan. I appreciate all that you have done for me and it’s more than I can ever repay.”
“Something wrong Miss Sheffield?” he responded picking up on the cues in her voice.
She opened her mouth as if to answer him, but hesitated not knowing how to evoke the turmoil of events and emotions that she found herself in. She slowly closed her mouth and moved to take his arm as she attempted to find the words that would explain the situation effectively. Finally one emotion bubbled to the surface and it served as an easy place to start.
“I’m scared Toby. I turned down a marriage proposal from Mr. Blackmon. There will be consequences for those actions. I’m not really sure what my next step should be. I’ve taken a path that I cannot turn back from, and yet the path is obscured in a fog that I’m not sure how to navigate.”
“Beggin’ your pardon Miss Sheffield, but it sounds like you be needin’ a lamp.” He responded and she could only pause surprised by the simple wisdom woven into the words. She turned to look at the large man’s face which conveyed no emotion and she discovered a new found respect for him. A lamp… a source of light and knowledge. How many times had she read of the mechanization and electrification of the north? She knew she could apply the same concepts to the estate and increase production and profit. If only she could get her father to listen to her.
He began to open his mouth to speak again but the sound of hooves made them both turn to look down the path. She immediately pushed on Toby and in a hoarse whisper said, “Quick Toby, back into the woods. Go to Adan and keep him hidden!”
Without hesitation, Toby silently melted back into the inky blackness of the woods and was almost immediately disappeared from site. She did not attempt to find his silhouette in the darkness and turned to face the on comer. A large dark shadow advanced up the compacted dirt path accompanied by the ominous sounds of hoof beats. As it approached the outline of the figure took shape and she recognized the silhouette of her father astride his prized Kentucky saddle bread stallion. He was still dressed in his finery of the evening’s festivities except his shoes which he had changed to his calf length leather riding boots. He obviously had been in a rush to find her. The rough outlines of his face were visible but she could not make out his expression. She did however, have an inkling of what kind of look he was giving her.
His voice when he spoke was deep and icy cold. She imagined that if the deepest darkest and coldest parts of the ocean had a voice, it would sound like his. “Evelia, what madness has possessed you that would bring you out here?”
Her skin prickled with anxiety as his voice brought painful icy shivers up her spine. “Father, I am sorry, I felt that some fresh air might do me some good after my fainting spell.”
“Seems the gardens would be a better place for such a thing instead of out here near the slave accommodations.” He responded tightly.
Her father already was starting to slice through her lies, and she thanked god for the darkness for her face would have betrayed her fear. Recovering as best she could and keeping her voice subservient she said, “The gardens were too crowded for my tastes; I wanted to be alone.”
“Well I hope all of that ‘alone’ time has helped you reconsider your answer to Mr. Blackmon?” An edge had appeared in his voice forming a knife’s edge that threatened to slice through her. There was nothing to do. She came to the knife’s point accepting of whatever fate had in store for her, but she was afraid. She lowered her head and said softly, “Father, I do not wish to marry him. There are ways that I might escape the life you have planned for me, but I feel a responsibility to the… estate. I would hope some other arrangement might possible. If you allowed me, I have ideas for how to double the profitability of this estate without having to merge with another. Allow me to postpone marriage and children for a few years and you’re legacy will be unmatched.”
There was a moment of silence as what she said became clear to him. Suddenly from astride his horse, a rage ignited in him. His horse picking up on his change of emotion started circling around her, the horse’s hooves stomping angrily around her and chewing forcefully on its bit. She began a dangerous dance with the horse as she tried to hop out of the way of the creature. In a commanding voice that thundered through the night he yelled, “Another arrangement? What have I done to deserve the curse of such a willful and disobedient child!? You are my daughter and I may give you to whom I will. You will marry Mr. Blackmon so that our estates may be adjoined. The bargain is already struck and you are in no position to break it!”
She had never truly seen him this angry before but his flippant disregard for her ignited her own anger. “If I am little more than part of a business deal than I am no better than the whores in New Orleans! In fact I would rather be a whore. They at least get to control their own destinies. Is that what I am father, your whore?”
Her outburst was unexpected, but her logic had struck true, but instead of swaying him it only hardened his heart, “You wretched disobedient child, I curse the day your mother bore you.” With that he spit at her sealing the curse.
As his saliva sprayed her face there was a sudden crack of branches as Toby strode forward in confident strides. The low timbre of his voice resonated with the power and authority of his physique. “Don’t you talk to Miss. Sheffield that way. She be a good girl and I will not stand by and allow you to be talkin’ to her in that manner!” She closed her eyes as she heard the footfalls of the large man come up behind her. This was not going well at all and she cursed Toby for disregarding her instructions. She meant to keep him out of this so that both he and Adan would be safe in their obscurity. Toby now became a much better target for her father’s anger. He would not only be punished for standing up for her but he would receive a punishment that her father wished he could give to her.
Her father’s voice became a shriek as he reached to the back of his saddle for his long leather whip that he always carried with him on the plantation. “How dare you address me in such a manner, I am your master and you will pay for your insolence.” As the last words sprang from his lips he uncoiled the whip letting it fall to his horse’s side. Evelia reacted without thought, only interested in keeping Toby from harm’s way and she rushed towards the horse blocking Toby from her father’s wrath. Her father was mid crack of the whip when his horse reared back surprised by Evelia’s sudden advance. Mid-swing he was not able to stabilize himself in the saddle as the horse stood on its back hooves towering over Evelia like a nightmarish monster. Her father fell back and landed on the ground mid-somersault, his neck and upper back making contact first. The angular momentum in his lower body caused his body to fold over on itself with such force that a loud crack split the night causing even the crickets to go silent.
As the horse galloped away she walked slowly to her fathers crumpled form. For a moment he had been folded flat like a paper envelope. Now his limbs lay at awkward angles from his body and she knew that he had died. Her lips trembled and she fell to the ground as a breath might escape one’s lips. Toby walk towards her father and leaned towards the ground examining the man. She could hear another approach from behind her and it wasn’t long before Adan’s arms were embracing her.
“What happened here?” she heard him say more to Toby than to herself.
Toby responded his voice low and serious, “He meant to strike me with his whip, and Miss Sheffield ran forward to help me. The horse reared and he fell.” He placed a hand on his neck and he lingered for only a moment before using the same hand to close her father’s eyes for good.
There lay her only flesh and blood relative and Evelia let the sorrow of her the death of her only kinsmen pull moisture from her eyes. Ever pragmatic however, as tears slowly dripped down her cheeks she turned to Adan and said, “I have no relatives. The estate is mine to do with as I please, and so is my destiny. I cannot legally marry you, but neither can I marry anyone. If I marry, I will lose control of the estate, but if you would have me I would be yours until the end of my days.”
His lips bent slightly at the edges giving her a subtle smile, yet she could see a joyful light in his eyes. He brought a hand up and moved a fallen lock of hair out of her face and behind her ear. “I do not think God cares about pieces of paper. From this point on, I will be your husband if you will be my wife in the only way that truly matters.” Adan pulled her into a hug and held her as the sound of crickets once again filled the night.
