Rainbow Hammock Read online

  Rainbow Hammock

  Becky Lee Weyrich

  Copyright

  Diversion Books

  A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.

  443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1008

  New York, NY 10016

  www.DiversionBooks.com

  Copyright © 1983 by Becky Lee Weyrich

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For more information, email [email protected]

  First Diversion Books edition June 2014

  ISBN: 978-1-62681-334-2

  Also by Becky Lee Weyrich

  Swan’s Way

  Savannah Scarlett

  Captive of Desire

  Sands of Destiny

  Almost Heaven

  Once Upon Forever

  Whispers in Time

  Sweet Forever

  Tainted Lilies

  Rapture’s Slave

  Summer Lightning

  Gypsy Moon

  Hot Winds from Bombay

  The Thistle and the Rose

  The Scarlet Thread

  Forever, For Love

  Silver Tears

  To the memory of Flo Buffington

  (Southeastern Writers’ Association)

  and

  Doris and Harold Random

  (Dixie Council of Authors and Journalists)

  Friends who loved writers and the Rainbow Hammocks well.

  Prologue

  RAINBOW HAMMOCK ISLAND, GEORGIA

  October 31, 1858

  The music died away, and a tired slave, liveried in green and gold, snuffed out the myrtle-wax candles in the ballroom. Voices softened to sleepy whispers as the revelers drifted off to guest rooms.

  Brandon Patrick, elder son of Ames and Elizabeth Patrick and heir to Fortune’s Fancy plantation, bid the last of the party-goers a good night. Then he took the stairs two at a time, hurrying to reach the floor above.

  The object of his impatient haste stood waiting for him on the second-floor gallery. Her indigo eyes danced with the glitter of excitement. She offered Brandon a warm smile, and thought to herself how handsome he looked in evening clothes.

  “Oh, Brandon, the ball was wonderful!” Lilah Fitzpatrick, the overseer’s niece, exclaimed. “The ladies looked simply elegant and all the gentlemen were so dashing!”

  Brandon laughed lightly at her girlish enthusiasm, his brown eyes twinkling behind thick, black lashes.

  Lilah lowered her gaze, blushing at his admiring scrutiny, and added, “But none as dashing as you, of course.”

  Brandon Patrick, two years Lilah’s senior, had been her idol for as far back as her memory would reach. Even as a callow youth he’d shown none of the gangling awkwardness his younger brother Jeremy was struggling now to grow out of. At nineteen, Brandon looked every bit the aristocrat he was—smooth of skin and fair of feature. He possessed the casual arrogance of one born to inherit wealth and position.

  Brandon’s lean build made him appear to be even taller than his six feet. Lilah had never seen one coal-black hair out of place—not even when he raced his white stallion, Unicorn, through the surf, with her riding bareback behind him.

  Even as Lilah thought how nature itself dared not mar his perfection, Brandon’s mind was working along the same lines concerning her.

  He looked at her long, burnished-silver hair and her comely figure, clad simply in a gingham gown handstitched by her mother and faded becomingly to match her eyes. But instead of voicing his admiration, he teased, “Did you children have fun up here spying on the grown-ups from the gallery?”

  Lilah assumed a pretty pout and stamped her foot daintily. “Brandon Patrick, I am not a child! I’ll be eighteen in a few more months.”

  He let his appreciative gaze slide over her, from the full swell of her proud breasts, to her narrow waist, and on down to her curving hips.

  “So you will, Lilah. It’s difficult to realize that you’re the same tomboy who used to shuck her frock behind the big oleander and swim with me and Jeremy in Mother Nature’s own.”

  “Brandon Patrick!” Lilah gasped. “How dare you bring up a lady’s past indiscretions!”

  He bowed to her. “My apologies most sincere, I assure you, ma’am,” he drawled. “Now, may I have the pleasure of escorting the lady home?”

  Lilah placed her hand on his proffered arm and curtsied. “By all means, sir. I’d be honored by such a noble escort.”

  Rainbow Hammock lay wrapped in moon-silver. A salt breeze wafted through the giant oaks, making the Spanish moss sway softly and teasing palm fronds into a quiet clattering. In the distance the waves lapped at the shore, offering a lulling peace to all who heard.

  Lilah sighed at the night’s magic and squeezed Brandon’s arm affectionately.

  “Happy?” he asked.

  “Joyously!” she whispered.

  “So am I. Come here and let me show you what would make me even happier.”

  The next moment Lilah found herself encircled by Brandon’s muscled arms. She breathed in the scents of French brandy mingled with a slight hint of Cuban tobacco as his lips found hers.

  Good smells …man smells, she thought, responding to his embrace.

  Brandon held her close for a long time, his lips teasing, caressing, savoring hers. Lilah could feel his heart pounding against her breast. A warmth swelled inside of her as he sought the soft depths of her mouth. She imitated his actions, feeling emotions awaken that had never made themselves known before.

  Brandon had kissed her on other occasions, so had Jeremy, but both playfully … never like this. Her senses reeled with delight.

  When, at last, Brandon pulled himself away, Lilah waited for him to speak. His breathing now seemed the only sound in the night.

  “Lilah, Lilah,” he whispered, still holding her close and stroking her hair, “you’re so beautiful… so wonderfully sweet and innocent. I want to protect you… take care of you.” He looked down into her eyes. “Promise me something”

  “Anything, Brandon,” she answered, overwhelmed by the hypnotic power of his gaze.

  “Let me be your partner at your first All Hallows’ Eve ball next year. I want to be the one to introduce you to the whole world and show them what a fine lady I have in you. You’ve more class than any blue-blooded daughter of Savannah. We’ll show them all… you and I!”

  The moment before his lips touched hers again Lilah sighed, “Yes, Brandon. Oh, yes!”

  In the early rose-gray dawn Lilah lay dreaming of the hours before—the children’s party at Fortune’s Fancy, where she and the others too young to attend the ball had watched from the gallery above, enjoying the sight of elegantly costumed dancers, and the sounds of the slave-musicians. Best of all, Brandon Patrick waltzed the ballroom of her dreams, his lips touching hers, his arms holding her close.

  She smiled happily while she slept. He hadn’t said he loved her, but she knew he did… as much as she loved him.

  A scratching at the window and a voice brought her instantly awake. “Miss Lilah, you got to come quick!”

  Though the area outside the window still lay in violet shadows, Lilah recognized the voice of Rhea, the beautiful Ibo slave who worked as an upstairs maid at Fortune’s Fancy.

  Lilah slipped out of bed and hurried to the open window. “Rhea, what are you doing here at this hour? What’s wrong?”

  She could
see the young servant had been crying.

  “Miss Lilah, it’s been terrible up to the big house all night … ever since Mister Brandon come back from fetching you home. Miz Patrick been carryin’ on somethin’ fierce. She mad as the pure-tee devil! I ain’t never seen such a row amongst white folks!”

  “Rhea, please try to calm down and tell me exactly what you’re talking about.”

  “I can’t calm down, Miss Lilah. You don’t hurry, you gonna miss him altogether. And my Kingdom, he say to fetch you to Rainbow Landing quick as I can!”

  Still not knowing what was afoot, but attuned to the urgency in Rhea’s voice, Lilah dressed quickly, then slipped out of the window.

  Rhea headed at a half run in the direction of the dock.

  “Rhea,” Lilah insisted, straining to keep up, “why are we going to the landing this early? Kingdom never takes the boat over to Savannah before sunup unless it’s an emergency.”

  “That’s what it is! I tell you, Miss Lilah, all holy hell done broke loose last night when Mister Brandon told his ma and pa you his gal and he makin’ plans for the future!”

  Lilah stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Rhea. “Brandon actually said that?”

  “He purely did! But then they had their say… ’specially Miz Patrick. She say, ‘No son of mine gonna make any plans with the overseer’s niece!’ She say she got ways of nippin’ things like this in the bud. She order Mister Brandon up the stairs and have Blue pack his bags… says he old enough now to go off to Savannah and work for his uncle Oscar… make a cotton factor out of him, ’stead of a planter. Mister Brandon, he fume and fuss, but she ain’t havin’ none of it. Miz Patrick done laid the law down!”

  Lilah gasped in disbelief. “She’s sending Brandon away? What will I do, Rhea?” Tears brimmed to the surface of her indigo-blue eyes. “I love him! He can’t go!”

  “Well, he goin’, Miss Lilah. And Miz Patrick didn’t even want him to see you ’fore he left. But my Kingdom, he say for me to fetch you right off”

  The two women reached the end of the white ribbon of oyster-shell road. A few yards away they could see two tall silhouettes against the lightening sky. Kingdom, the young black giant who headed the Patrick boat crew, moved away from Brandon Patrick. He motioned his wife to follow so that Lilah and Brandon could have some privacy for their farewell.

  For several long moments Lilah and Brandon stood a few feet apart, staring at each other. The tears in Lilah’s eyes now slipped down her cheeks. Brandon’s finely chiseled features showed the strain of a long night of anguish replacing sleep.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said softly.

  “You would have left without telling me, Brandon?” Lilah murmured, hardly daring to trust her voice.

  He covered the space separating them in two long strides, and closed his arms around her, burying his face in her fragrant hair. “No,” he whispered, “I couldn’t have.”

  Lilah could feel him trembling with emotion as he sought her lips with a desperate need.

  “Oh, my sweet Lilah,” Brandon moaned, “I don’t want to leave you. You mean everything to me. I want us to be together to share the rest of our lives.”

  A sudden fear twisted inside Lilah. She tightened her arms around Brandon’s neck as if in that way she could hold him to her and the island, preserving this moment for eternity.

  “Take me with you, Brandon, please.”

  He seemed to consider her request for an instant, then shook his head sadly. “It would never work. Mother would only have Uncle Oscar send me somewhere on business to get me away from you. I might even be sent to the office in Liverpool—an ocean away!”

  “But if we were…” She tried to form the word married but realized it was not her place to suggest such a thing. Any proposal would have to come from Brandon.

  The rising sun turned the water behind them into an artist’s palette of Venetian red, alizarin crimson, and Mars yellow. Lilah’s pale hair, falling straight down her back to below her waist, caught the tints and glowed softly in the light. She stood motionless, waiting for Brandon to say the words she so longed to hear.

  Instead, he pressed her lips gently once more, then with greater urgency. For a long time they stood clinging to each other.

  Kingdom broke the spell, calling out, “Mister Brandon, we gots to be going, if we gonna make the tide.”

  Brandon stepped away from Lilah reluctantly, but held her with the gaze of his smoldering brown eyes. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something… of asking the all-important question.

  Go on! Lilah’s mind and heart pleaded. Say the words, Brandon!

  But, if he didn’t speak the syllables she longed to hear, his parting kiss said, I love you, Lilah! and so much more.

  Brandon, sitting rigid and silent in the boat, watched the figure at the landing disappear.

  So, he thought, I’ll never have her. Whatever I do, her background will always stand between us. I could deal with mother, but how does one deal with ghosts?

  A loneliness he’d never known before closed around his heart.

  For a long while after the boat pulled out of sight across the gilded sea, Lilah stood gazing out at the emptiness. How long before he’d return to her? And how could she live without him near?

  Chapter 1

  RAINBOW HAMMOCK

  October 24, 1859

  Lilah Fitzpatrick, her silky hair shining in the warm Georgia sun, sat on the veranda of Fortune’s Fancy, gazing out over the manicured lawn. She watched two peacocks, their iridescent fans spread, strut magnificently, as if they owned Rainbow Hammock.

  She sighed. How wonderful it would be to own the world!

  To Lilah, Rainbow Hammock was the world—the only one she’d known in her eighteen years. Her sole reality lay in its gnarled, moss-shrouded oaks; misty marshes; wide, white beaches; and the shimmering fields of long-staple cotton.

  She could still picture Brandon Patrick riding up the shell road on his white horse or striding in from the fields to the house when the dinner bell sounded. The memory of his kisses lingered in her dreams.

  Almost a year, she thought, and not a word from him. But soon he’ll be home. I feel it!

  “Lilah, for Chrissakes, quit daydreaming and come help me.” Jeremy Patrick interrupted her reverie “I’m all thumbs when it comes to tying up these corn dolls. And you, Amalee,” he tossed his twin sister an accusing glance, “are worse than useless!”

  “The corn husks are rough,” Amalee whined from a comfortable rocker at the shady end of the veranda. “I’ll positively ruin my hands. Besides, it’s too hot to work. I don’t see why the servants can’t make the decorations for the ball.”

  “We’ve always done it. Ever since we learned to tie a string,” Lilah replied matter-of-factly.

  “But it was different before,” Amalee insisted. “We weren’t old enough to go to the ball then. I certainly don’t want Henri Dupree and the other boys from Savannah who’re coming to ask me to dance and find my hands rubbed rough as a nigger’s from all this work. Honestly, that would simply mortify me!”

  Jeremy bombarded his complaining sister with a hail of brightly colored kernels, sending her into a fit of protesting squeals.

  “You bastard!” Amalee shrieked at her brother.

  A disapproving, black face appeared at the front door and peered at the three with saucerlike eyes. “I done heared somethin’ that I didn’t hear a-tall. Leastwise, Miz Elizabeth ain’t gonna know I heared it ‘less it happens again. Your ma don’t cotton to young ladies usin’ that kind of talk!”

  Having warned the trio, old Zalou, who had served as Elizabeth Ryan Patrick’s mammy before taking charge of Amalee, disappeared down the hallway.

  Lilah bent to pick up the scattered corn. The velvet-blue shadows cast by the morning glory vine on the trellis flitted like playful butterflies on her long hair.

  She glanced at Amalee and then at Jere
my. The twins were so alike with their auburn curls, Irish-green eyes, and quick tempers. Only moments before, Amalee had complained that Jeremy and Lilah were having all the fun and weren’t letting her do anything.

  “You just rest yourself, Amalee,” Lilah said. “Jeremy and I can finish up the last of these corn dolls in no time.” A flicker of a frown crossed her face and her indigo eyes suddenly went deep violet. “It won’t matter if my hands get a few more callouses. I won’t be going to the All Hallows’ Eve ball.”

  Her thoughts were again on Brandon, the twins’ older brother, and her promise to be with him on that night.

  “Not going to the ball?” Jeremy cried. “What the hell do you mean, Lilah?”

  “You watch your language, Jeremy Patrick, or Zalou will have Mama out here!” Amalee cautioned.

  “I don’t give a damn!” he shot at his sister, then caught Lilah by the shoulders. “Of course you’ll be at the ball. It wouldn’t be right without you there. We’re all eighteen now, and you know how we’ve been looking forward to our first fancy party.” He threw back his head and laughed aloud. “I must admit though, I’ll miss spying on the guests from the gallery. Remember last year when old Uncle Oscar slipped and almost drowned in the apple bobbing tub?”

  All three joined in the laughter as Jeremy did a drunken dance and leaned over the veranda railing in imitation of his uncle’s desperate flailing in the apple tub.

  Lilah grew silent, then said, “Yes, I’ll miss all that this year.”

  “You won’t miss a blasted thing, I’m telling you!” Jeremy grew adamant. “Why are you talking crazy, girl?”

  Before Lilah could answer, Jeremy exaggerated a sweeping bow and grabbed her. He whirled her about the veranda until they both grew dizzy.

  Amalee, noting the gleam in her brother’s eyes, tossed her head in a show of jealous-disgust.