like to take a walk or something?”
Belle wondered if he’d come up here on his own, or if his mother had sent him. Either way, she appreciated the kindness. “Thanks, but I’ll be all right.”
“Not if you spend your day brooding. Would your father want that?”
Belle shook her head no. Wherever he was, living or dead, he wouldn’t want her to worry about him, but how could she not? “He was the most important person in my life, especially after Mama was taken.”
“Did the two of you live together?”
“No. He was a bricklayer. He and his master traveled around, but after Mama was sold, he never missed a Sunday. Not in seven years.”
Daniel appeared confused by her last words, so she explained further: “Many slaves are allowed to visit their kin on Sundays as long as they have a pass from the master and get back before the horn blows them to work Monday morning. He’d come every Sunday.”
Belle paused as the memories rose. “I’d wait on my mistress’s porch watching the road. Soon as I’d see him I’d fly down the steps and run to meet him. He’d grab me up and say, ‘Hey, June bug, you’re prettier every Sunday morning’.”
Daniel saw the tears in her eyes and the watery smile.
Belle whispered, “I miss him so much….”
Daniel’s heart twisted. “Aw, Belle. Don’t cry. Come here….”
The next thing she knew he was holding her against his chest and she was sobbing all over the front of his red plaid shirt.
Daniel didn’t know what else to do, so he held her tight, stroked her soft hair, and murmured nonsensically. He kissed the top of her brow and told himself if he’d received such tragic news he’d need comforting, too. He could feel the warmth of her limbs against his and smell the scents in the oil Jojo had given her for her hair. Solace was all he was supposed to be offering, but holding her so close evoked stirrings that had more to do with him as a male and less to do with a show of sympathy.
“Daniel Best! What in the world are you doing?!”
The familiar voice struck Daniel like a bolt of lightning. He swung himself around and stared into the furious tan eyes of Francine, his soon-to-be fiancée. Beside her stood his mother. He wondered why his mother seemed to be smiling.
Francine snapped, “For heaven’s sake, turn her loose!”
Daniel hastily separated himself from Belle, who, wiping at her damp eyes, appeared equally as embarrassed. Daniel had been so content holding Belle, he hadn’t even realized she was still in his arms when he swung around.
“Now,” Francine said with a fake smile on her golden, doll-like face, “an explanation, please.”
Mrs. Best took over. “Belle, this is Francine Fleming. Francine, Belle Palmer.”
“And she is?” Francine asked shortly, looking Belle up and down critically.
“A guest,” Mrs. Best replied with just a touch of bite.
The firm tone in Cecilia Best’s voice seemed to get the young woman’s attention. Evidently she’d tangled with Daniel’s mother and lost before, because Francine suddenly found her manners. “How are you, Belle? Excuse my outburst. Daniel’s my intended. I’m sure you must know what a shock it was for me to find you two in such a—delicate situation.”
Belle now understood Jojo’s aversion to the beautiful Francine the Queen, but returned politely, “I understand. I received some bad news today. Daniel—” Belle looked to him for a moment, then added as she turned back to Francine’s cool eyes “—Daniel was comforting me is all. I’m sorry his generosity upset you.”
Daniel felt like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and he didn’t like the feeling at all. He cared very deeply for Francine, but at times she tried to ride him as if he were already saddled, and this was one of those times. “Belle’s father was taken back to slavery, Franny. She’s had a rough time of it.”
Francine, swathed in a sweeping cape made of fine blue wool, replied,
Belle wondered if he’d come up here on his own, or if his mother had sent him. Either way, she appreciated the kindness. “Thanks, but I’ll be all right.”
“Not if you spend your day brooding. Would your father want that?”
Belle shook her head no. Wherever he was, living or dead, he wouldn’t want her to worry about him, but how could she not? “He was the most important person in my life, especially after Mama was taken.”
“Did the two of you live together?”
“No. He was a bricklayer. He and his master traveled around, but after Mama was sold, he never missed a Sunday. Not in seven years.”
Daniel appeared confused by her last words, so she explained further: “Many slaves are allowed to visit their kin on Sundays as long as they have a pass from the master and get back before the horn blows them to work Monday morning. He’d come every Sunday.”
Belle paused as the memories rose. “I’d wait on my mistress’s porch watching the road. Soon as I’d see him I’d fly down the steps and run to meet him. He’d grab me up and say, ‘Hey, June bug, you’re prettier every Sunday morning’.”
Daniel saw the tears in her eyes and the watery smile.
Belle whispered, “I miss him so much….”
Daniel’s heart twisted. “Aw, Belle. Don’t cry. Come here….”
The next thing she knew he was holding her against his chest and she was sobbing all over the front of his red plaid shirt.
Daniel didn’t know what else to do, so he held her tight, stroked her soft hair, and murmured nonsensically. He kissed the top of her brow and told himself if he’d received such tragic news he’d need comforting, too. He could feel the warmth of her limbs against his and smell the scents in the oil Jojo had given her for her hair. Solace was all he was supposed to be offering, but holding her so close evoked stirrings that had more to do with him as a male and less to do with a show of sympathy.
“Daniel Best! What in the world are you doing?!”
The familiar voice struck Daniel like a bolt of lightning. He swung himself around and stared into the furious tan eyes of Francine, his soon-to-be fiancée. Beside her stood his mother. He wondered why his mother seemed to be smiling.
Francine snapped, “For heaven’s sake, turn her loose!”
Daniel hastily separated himself from Belle, who, wiping at her damp eyes, appeared equally as embarrassed. Daniel had been so content holding Belle, he hadn’t even realized she was still in his arms when he swung around.
“Now,” Francine said with a fake smile on her golden, doll-like face, “an explanation, please.”
Mrs. Best took over. “Belle, this is Francine Fleming. Francine, Belle Palmer.”
“And she is?” Francine asked shortly, looking Belle up and down critically.
“A guest,” Mrs. Best replied with just a touch of bite.
The firm tone in Cecilia Best’s voice seemed to get the young woman’s attention. Evidently she’d tangled with Daniel’s mother and lost before, because Francine suddenly found her manners. “How are you, Belle? Excuse my outburst. Daniel’s my intended. I’m sure you must know what a shock it was for me to find you two in such a—delicate situation.”
Belle now understood Jojo’s aversion to the beautiful Francine the Queen, but returned politely, “I understand. I received some bad news today. Daniel—” Belle looked to him for a moment, then added as she turned back to Francine’s cool eyes “—Daniel was comforting me is all. I’m sorry his generosity upset you.”
Daniel felt like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and he didn’t like the feeling at all. He cared very deeply for Francine, but at times she tried to ride him as if he were already saddled, and this was one of those times. “Belle’s father was taken back to slavery, Franny. She’s had a rough time of it.”
Francine, swathed in a sweeping cape made of fine blue wool, replied,
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