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Drake replied angrily, “Probably never, because men like Boyd won’t let go of the past.”
After returning from lunch with Cole and Lenny, Val sat out in the gazebo, her mind filled with the happenings of the last day and a half. First there’d been their arrival, followed by the gift of the two boxcars from Drake, and her decision to remain in New Orleans, which meant telling Cole at lunch that he’d be traveling west without her. It saddened her knowing he’d be so far away, but as Drake reminded her, she could always train out and visit. She was certain he’d miss her presence in his life as well, but her decision had been met with his blessing because they’d always wanted only the best for each other.
Breaking their engagement would necessitate a letter home to her parents, and her father would not be pleased by the news. He’d not see her staying in New Orleans as an opportunity to make her own way in the world because he didn’t believe her capable. She was a woman after all, and women needed husbands to guide not only their lives, but their thinking. Val didn’t need anyone to guide her thinking, proven during her schooldays when she’d spent almost as much time in Mrs. Brown’s office being scolded as she had in the classroom. Yet still, he’d want her to defer to his better judgement and do as she was told.
Her saving grace might be her age. She was past the age society considered marriageable and if he wanted to find someone to replace Cole, it might be so difficult he’d leave her be. She didn’t mind being labeled a spinster if she had to walk through life alone. There were undoubtedly worse things than being an unmarried woman in charge of her own life, free to come and go as she pleased, free to explore pleasure.
She thought back on her most recent night with Drake and blushed. Well-raised women knew very little about their bodies, but well-raised pirates apparently knew quite a great deal. Which made her wonder if his blood was indeed contagious because bantering with him in the buggy the way she had wasn’t anything she’d planned. The words seemed to spring from a place inside she never knew existed. After making her melt the way he had, he’d deserved a heat-inducing taste of his own medicine. In hindsight, she’d enjoyed her boldness and how powerful it made her feel. She guessed a woman wasn’t supposed to acknowledge such things but being in New Orleans seemed to be remaking her in exciting new ways. It also seemed to encourage the suppressed parts of herself to rise and walk freely. She looked forward to the future, but not one chosen by her father. With that in mind she picked up her pen and began her letter.
But last night and Drake were on her mind, too. When he told her the supremacists were coming for him, she’d never been so afraid for another person in her life. The mad dash through the woods with Little Reba had been harrowing but paled in comparison to her fear for his safety. Waking up that morning, and not knowing whether her pirate was dead or alive had filled her with dread, but upon seeing him, the dread was replaced by a joy that radiated inside like the warmth of the sun.
Did it mean she was in love? How did a woman who’d had no experience with the word know? Admittedly, she enjoyed their passionate moments, but last night, the reality that she might never see him alive again, hear his voice or see his smile again, had left her heartsick. She thought back on Cole’s description of love and decided she probably was.
After finishing her letter and preparing it for the post, she was just sitting down to dinner when Drake came in. He was covered with ash, dirt, and reeking of smoke. “How are you?” she asked softly.
“I’ve been better.” He gave her plate a cursory glance. “I need to get cleaned up.”
“I’ll wait and eat with you if you’d like.”
Some of the tension he’d entered with seemed to melt away. “I would.”
“Reba said you’d be starving, so there’s enough food in the kitchen to feed all the diners at the Christophe.”
“Good. I’ll be back shortly.”
When he left, she went into the kitchen to alert Reba that he was home, then retook her spot at the dining-room table. Seeing his burned-out house this morning had filled her with such sorrow she’d wanted to weep. He’d taken such pride in showing off the place to her yesterday, letting her know the construction had been a labor of love. And now? The barely masked anguish she’d seen in his eyes after arriving with Sable and Reba had made her want to scrap lunch with Cole and stay with him, hoping her company would lift his spirits. But he’d wanted to begin clearing away the debris, and she didn’t want to be in the way. At lunch with Cole and Lenny, she’d debated whether to tell them about last night’s incident but decided to go ahead. Both men had been shocked by the story, and again voiced concerns over her decision to stay. She’d explained that turning tail and running away did nothing to help the situation. After all, the residents of New Orleans weren’t going to just pack up and leave. They had lives, families, friends, jobs. They’d stay and do the best they could to help things change, and she would do the same.
A short while later, clean and wearing a simple white shirt and dark trousers, Drake entered carrying a tray that had to be groaning under the weight of the mountain of food piled on the plates. Fried chicken, red beans and rice, yams, a plate of steamed shrimp, and a litany of other gastronomical delights, including a large piece of pie. Seeing her jaw drop, he smiled wryly and took a seat.
Digging in, he asked, “So, what did you do today?”
“Archer was nice enough to send Mr. Doolittle to drive me to the Quarter so I could have lunch with Cole and Lenny. I told them I’m going to stay in New Orleans.”
He paused. “And their reaction?”
“They took it well. Since I’m not going with them they’re going to leave on the morning train. Do you think we can take them to the train station?”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks. I also told them about last night. They’re worried about me staying, but I told them running away won’t change anything.”
“No, it won’t.”
“How’s the cleanup going?”
He sighed. “As well as could be expected I suppose.”
“Are you going to rebuild right away?”
“No, I’ll wait until the fall when the weather cools off. In the meantime, I’ll take on some paying jobs so I can afford to rebuild. There is some good news though. Your boxcars are fine.”
“That is good news.”
“Fixing them up will help take my mind off last night.”
She saw the shadows cross his face. “I’m sorry, Drake.”
He shrugged. “It’s the price you pay for demanding justice, I suppose. I’m just glad it was my place and not this one.” He took a slow look around the dining room, and said wistfully, “This house holds so many memories: parties, christenings, arguments, laughter. The family would’ve been heartbroken had something happened to it, especially Mama. My place had none, other than the ones I had from building it. Hopefully the replacement will stand as long as this one and be filled with just as many good memories.”
