Archer, Jane (37 page)

Her expression was cold, inscrutable. "I'm going upstairs now, Stan. Please ring for the doctor."

After Stan left, Alexandra went upstairs and into the old woman's room.

"Only her head seems to be hurt," the maid told her.

"Good," Alexandra said, walking closer to the bed; she could see that the old woman was dark skinned and had graying hair. She hadn't seen her clearly in the carriage. She was thin under the covers as if she had not eaten well in a long time.

Alexandra looked at her maid and said, "You can go now. Send the doctor up as soon as he arrives."

Alexandra picked up a lamp and carried it with her to a chair by the bed. She held the light over the woman.

She gasped, almost dropping the lamp. "Ebba?" she whispered hesitantly, setting the lamp on a nearby table. "Ebba," she repeated with more conviction, taking the limp hand in hers. "It's Alexandra, Ebba. You're with me. You're safe now. Can you hear me, Ebba?"

Slowly the woman's eyelids fluttered, then they opened, revealing large dark eyes filled with pain and suffering. They focused on Alexandra in confusion. A slight frown appeared in her smooth forehead, then a soft, hesitant voice said, "Miss Alexandra? That you, child?"

"Yes, oh yes, Ebba. It's me, Alexandra. It's me," she said, laughing as tears ran swiftly down her cheeks. She was so happy she couldn't believe it. She was no longer alone. Here was someone she loved. Someone who could share her life.

Tears began to run down the old woman's cheeks. "I'm sure glad to see you, sugar," she said, her voice strengthening. "I'd about given up on this old world."

"Oh, no, Ebba, you're safe now. You're here with me in my home. You need never worry about anything again."

"You mean that, Miss Alexandra? I can't go back on the street again. I just can't."

"Oh, no. You'll stay here with me. I need you, Ebba. I need you desperately. Do you hear me? You
must
get well."

"You need
me,
child? I thought no one needed old Ebba anymore. I couldn't see no reason for living. No more friends, no more family—"

"You stepped out in front of the carriage on purpose?" Alexandra asked in amazement.

A sheepish look came over Ebba's face. "And I'm ashamed of it, too, sugar, but you see when you left me in New Orleans, I caught that ship. I made it fine until I got to this here city. Before I'd even gotten to my friends, I'd been robbed, beaten, everything I had taken. This is a frightful place, child. It ain't good to us from the South. Supposed to be a place for us here, but there ain't. We'd be better off back in the South. At least we knew what was what there. My friends were as bad off as me. Couldn't get no work, couldn't get no help. Had to live any way they could. They're dying here, child. There's no place for them and in the winter, the cold gets them. I couldn't take it no more. My friends were giving me
their
food. I couldn't do that. Weren't right. There just was no more reason for living."

Alexandra leaned over Ebba, stroking her face lovingly. "Listen to me, Ebba. I've sent for the doctor. He'll be here soon. You just can't die. I have no one else. Do you hear me? You're the only family I have left. Listen, Ebba, I carry Jake, Jacob Jarmon's child in me. His child needs you.
I
need you."

"What's that you say, child?" she asked, the round black eyes regarding her intently.

"I'm carrying Jake's son."

"Thank the Lord. There's going to be another Jarmon boy. Oh, sugar, nothing could make me happier," Ebba said, looking into Alexandra's face happily. "And nothing could kill me now. Got to get up out of this bed and take care of you. Got lots to do. You made any baby clothes yet?"

Alexandra shook her head negatively, laughing.

"No! You young things just don't understand. Those babies come quicker than you realize. A Jarmon boy," she said, beaming. "You and that Jacob. Now, he was always the man in my books. What a fine child you two will have."

Alexandra beamed, thrilled to see the light back in Ebba's eyes.

"But where's that scoundrel? That Jacob? Didn't that boy marry you?" Ebba asked sternly.

Alexandra stood up quickly, walked across the room, then back to Ebba. Her voice was very quiet when she said, "He's dead, Ebba. I saw him killed."

"Good Lord! Bless the poor boy's soul. Can you tell me about it, sugar?"

"Oh, Ebba," Alexandra cried, flinging herself into the chair, "I can't! It's still——"

"I understand, child. Ebba understands. You'll tell me when you can. Right now, we'll just take care of you. I don't need no doctor no more. You're medicine enough for me. See, I'm feeling fine now," Ebba said, grinning at Alexandra.

Alexandra dried her tears. "You're going to stay right in that bed until the doctor gets here and then you're going to have some broth—"

"Broth?" Ebba asked, then groaned. "Oh, child, I've been starving long enough. I need some real food."

Alexandra laughed, feeling happy inside. "All right, providing the doctor approves, you'll have whatever you want."

"Oh, that sounds good, Miss Alexandra. I hope he gets here soon."

"Oh, he will, Ebba, then everything will be fine, just fine."

Chapter 26

A perfect day for a wedding, Alexandra thought grimly as Ebba adjusted her beautiful white wedding gown. The sun was shining, and a slight, cooling breeze blew in through the open window, but it didn't please Alexandra. She had, in fact, hoped it would rain. That would have suited her mood better.

"You sure this is right, child?" Ebba asked, watching Alexandra in concern. "Grieving for another man ain't much of a way to start a marriage."

"I know, Ebba, but my baby must have a name."

"There's something about that man—"

"He's all I've got," Alexandra broke in.

They had spent a busy week shopping for the wedding and the baby. They had both indulged in all kinds of delectable foods and regaled each other with all the events that had transpired after they had parted in New Orleans. They had spoken little of the future, and when they had, it had centered around the baby—their one tie with the past.

"Well, I still wish you were happier, sugar. But time will heal. It always does," Ebba said, nodding in satisfaction at Alexandra's image in the mirror.

"I hope so, Ebba, I hope so."

"It's time, child. If you're set on this course, Miss Alexandra, then we might as well get it over with. That baby won't wait for no minister when he's ready to come into this world."

Alexandra laughed. "No, I'll bet he won't."

She took a deep breath, then walked across her bedroom toward the door. Ebba followed, her heavy silk skirts rustling.

Downstairs, Stan awaited them in the parlor, dressed as befitted the occasion. Now that the wedding was at hand, he had become nervous. What if Alexandra decided not to go through with it? What if she became sick? What if something unforeseen happened? He'd waited so long for this moment that he simply wanted to grab Alexandra by the hair, drag her to the altar and have done with it. If there needed to be niceties, they could have them later. All the preparations had made him anxious, and Alexandra had been even more remote since that black woman had joined her.

That was one woman he'd get rid of immediately after they were married, he told himself as he paced the room.

He looked up to see Alexandra walking toward him, the dark woman behind her, and he forgot all the waiting, all the nervousness in her presence. He didn't think he'd ever seen her so lovely, but then he always thought that each time he saw her anew.

He walked over to her, and kissed her hand. She was cold. He sensed her nervousness and complete withdrawal. Well, no matter. She was going to marry him one way or another. He'd gone through too much, killed too many men to lose her at this point. She was merely frightened by the thought of marriage. He'd take care of that. He would give her no more time to think.

"Come, Alexandra, it's time," he said, extending his arm, and they were on their way.

The carriage moved swiftly down the street, carrying the trio rapidly toward the chapel. Somehow it didn't seem quite real to Alexandra, even though she could feel Stan's hands heavy on her own. The streets were crowded with people bustling around, absorbed with their own business. They could not know, or even care, that she was on her way to be married to a man she didn't love, or that her heart was breaking for love of a man who was dead, killed by her own fiance. But she cared—desperately! Oh, Jake, why couldn't it be you by my side?

The carriage moved relentlessly on, pulling closer and closer to the chapel. It would not wait. Stan would not wait. Only Alexandra wanted to stop the quickly approaching moment when she would stand by Stan Lewis in front of the altar. And as she sat there, her mind searching for escape like a butterfly fluttering against a window-pane, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of a small stone building near a large, magnificent church.

Stan turned to her, smiling.

Unable to face his triumphant expression, she looked away, down the street. Her tormented green eyes widened, softening, as she stared at a solitary male figure some distance away. Her heart seemed to catch, then began pounding rapidly and with each beat one word reverberated in her mind—Jake, Jake, Jake.

Her hand automatically covered her mouth to stifle the word that wanted to burst forth. There was no Jake. He was dead. There was only Stan Lewis!

She jerked her head around, her eyes bright with tears and pain, her heart close to bursting. She could not breathe.

"Alexandra, are you coming?" Stan asked impatiently.

She tried to stop her reeling mind. Stan stood on the ground, his arms extended toward her. It was time. She had to go to him. She willed herself not to look back at the lone man watching her, his legs spread wide, his arms at his sides. Jake
was
dead.

"Alexandra."

"Yes. Yes, I'm coming, Stan," she whispered.

She felt Stan take her arm. If she turned around, would the man still be there watching her? She must not look. She must not!

The high, elaborately carved, double doors to the chapel opened, and Stan led her inside. It was cool here, and intimate. It was all smooth woods and deep, rich velvets. They walked side by side down the aisle, Ebba behind them. An aisle had never seemed so short.

The minister and his wife were happy, smiling, gray-haired people, who nodded encouragingly as they came closer. Flowers appeared. Alexandra could smell them as she held the delicate blossoms in her hands. How long would they live?

They spoke in whispers. She couldn't seem to hear their words. Was the solitary man still outside?

Stan held her hand. His was hot. Hers was cold. She could feel Ebba's nearness on her right. She could not feel Stan on her left. He did not exist for her. The minister's wife was smiling at them, her eyes warm. The minister had opened his Bible. He was speaking. What did he say? She couldn't seem to hear him.

There was a noise behind them. The doors opened. Steps rang out momentarily in the chapel. Her heart gave a tiny leap. She forced herself to look at the minister.

He was looking past them toward the back of the chapel. His face was confused. He frowned slightly before turning back to his Bible. He cleared his throat, then began reading again.

"And if there be any man present who knows a reason why this man and this woman should not be joined in holy matrimony, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace."

Silence.

Her heart beat faster. The chapel was quiet. Let there be a reason, please. There is a reason, many reasons. I cannot marry this man. He killed my love. How can I marry him? Will no one speak?

Silence.

The minister cleared his throat, glanced to the back of the chapel, waited, then resumed speaking.

"Alexandra?"

Her name. The minister had stopped speaking. She looked at him. What did he want?

"Do you take this man—"

That was it. Her answer. She must agree. It was only two words. Two short words to bind her to Stan Lewis forever. Two small words to make her Stan's wife.

"Alexandra?"

The minister was looking at her. Stan was looking at her. She opened her mouth. What were the words?

"I—I—"

"She doesn't!" boomed a familiar voice from the back of the chapel.

"Jake!" Alexandra cried, her heart almost bursting with happiness, but as she whirled to see her love Stan reached inside his jacket. He had come prepared. But as he drew his gun, swiveling around, the minister saw him and reached out to stop him, the movement prematurely jerking Stan's finger against the trigger.

The gun fired. A bullet tore through the minister's arm, spraying bright red blood over Alexandra's white gown as his wife screamed and reached for her falling husband.

Stan ignored the wounded man and continued to spin, his gun still smoking, holding Jake's life in its next chamber.

But Jake was ready.

His hand was steady, his eyes hard as he squeezed off his shot, the only shot he would need. Jake's bullet smashed into Stan's chest, hurling him backward across the altar where he remained motionless as his life gushed out. His gray eyes were bewildered, then glazed over and saw nothing more.

Alexandra flew to Jake, flinging herself into his arms as tears of happiness ran down her face.

Was it really true? Could he be real? She looked up into his hard, handsome face. A fresh pink scar was etched across his temple and she ran her fingers along it. He
was
real!

Jake crushed her to him. "I love you, Alexandra. I love you."

She eagerly pressed her lips to his.

Nothing could ever separate them again.

Epilogue

Alexander and Jake stood on the windy hill, the summer sun warming them as they gazed down at the grave of Olaf Thorssen. They had saved it for the last—a tribute to the man who had brought them together.

"I'm sorry you couldn't have known your grandfather," Alexandra said pensively.