Love, Come to Me(92)

“Yes. There was an article about the State Bureau of Labor that Heath had brought home to look over. Would you have an idea of where he might have put it?”

“It would be in his desk. If you’ll wait here, I’ll see if I can find it.”

“I would appreciate that.”

The sight of Heath’s desk in the library, with its neat stacks of paper, deftly slitted envelopes and haphazardly stacked reference books, caused Lucy to smile wistfully. The last time she had seen him sitting there, she had gone in to scold him for staying up so late, and he had interrupted her lecture by pulling her onto his lap and quieting her with a thorough kiss. She would give anything for one of his kisses right now. What wouldn’t she do, for him to look at her and call her by name, knowing who she was?

Opening and shutting drawers, she looked for the article, glad of the small task and the opportunity it gave her to think about something besides her frustration and weariness. In the second drawer on the right side was a stack of tiny envelopes, tied with a string and wedged in the back corner. The top one was addressed to Heath in a curling feminine script.

Feeling guilty, for she had never gone through his desk, Lucy stared at the letters. The right thing to do would be to ignore the packet and pretend that she had never seen it. She flushed and then went white, casting a furtive glance around the room before she picked up the tempting stack of letters and slipped it into the pocket of her dress. She would just look through them quickly, just to find out who had written them. I’m his wife, she told herself. I have the right to know about these. There should be no secrets between us. And he certainly knows everything about me! Nevertheless, her conscience bothered her as she closed the drawer and resumed her search for the article. When she found it, she went back to the parlor and gave it to Damon, terribly aware of the bulge of letters in her pocket.

“Thank you,” Damon said, looking at her differently from before. Did he see the guilt on her face? Could he tell that she had discovered something in Heath’s desk? Perhaps his expression wasn’t different from before. It could have been that she was just imagining things. “If there is anything you need or anything I can do,” he said, “please ask.”

“I will,” Lucy replied, suddenly impatient to have him out of the house. It was shameless. But now that she had done something wrong, the least she was entitled to was the knowledge of what she had discovered. She could hardly wait to be alone and examine the letters in private.

When Damon had left and Lucy was alone, she pulled the curtain across the doorway of the parlor and sat down in a plump upholstered chair. Resting her head against the back of it, she sighed and closed her eyes for a second to ease their dry burning. She could hardly believe what she was doing. While her husband was helpless and ill upstairs, she was down here going through his private correspondence. I shouldn’t . . . I shouldn’t. But I have to know. Untying the string rapidly, she began to flip through the envelopes. All written by the same hand. All written by the same woman. Was it Raine?

No. Her shoulders sagged with relief as she pulled out the top letter and looked at the name at the bottom. Amy. That was the name of Heath’s half sister. The lines slanted up and down, penned in a careful, childish script that betrayed the writer’s youth. The first letter was dated more than a year ago, in June 1868. As Lucy scanned it, she discovered it was filled with Amy’s remarks and observations about the condition of the Price plantation and its residents. The name Clay—Heath’s half brother—was mentioned most often, and there was a brief reference to Raine, but nothing that described who Raine was. Impatiently Lucy slid the letter back into the envelope and reached for the next. She read letter after letter, her eyes lingering on certain phrases and sentences that jumped out at her.

Today Mother said that we couldn’t mention your name anymore. But Raine and I still talk about you in secret. Raine says she misses you, even after what happened between you.

Clay’s back hurts him a lot. He is sickly.

Mother is angry all the time. She says she should never have left England to marry Daddy. Now that he is gone, she wants to move back there. Poor Clay knows that she has to stay here because of him. Dr. Collins said Clay has to live where it’s warm.

Raine showed me the first flower you ever gave her. She pressed it in her Bible . . .

Raine and Clay had another fight ...

I like Raine sometimes, but she gets angry so quick. She wants nothing to do with Clay now. I think Mother is right about one thing. Raine’s not a good wife to him.

Lucy’s breath stopped as she reread the last sentence. Raine was Clay’s wife? Then she must have married him knowing that Heath loved her. But why would she have chosen Clay over Heath? For the plantation? For money? Perhaps because Heath was illegitimate. Yes, that must have been the reason.

I told Clay and Raine about your letter. Clay laughed when he found out you’re married to a Yankee woman. He said it was what you deserve. Raine was upset for a while, then she got mad. I think she still loves you. Why did you marry a Yankee woman? Does she have lots of money? There are lots of girls here who need husbands. I think you’d have been better off with one of them.

Raine doesn’t share a room with Clay anymore. She sleeps in the room you used whenever you came to visit.

I think Clay is dying . . .

Lucy’s absorbed silence was broken by the sound of Bess’s voice.