The Color of Dust Page 19

  Robert shifted on the bench next to her. His jacket was off and his sleeves rolled up past the elbows. Sweat stained the armpits of his shirt. He fanned himself with his hat hard enough that Carrie could smell him, hair grease, horse sweat and iodine.

  Her own sour body smell mixed with his and stuck in the back of her throat. She waved her fan harder, but that was a mistake.

  The smell of Lilly on her hands made her shiver. A week’s worth of Lilly on her hands and they would never smell the same. She glanced over to the other side of the porch where Lilly sat facing them, far enough away to be almost unobtrusive but close enough to make Carrie wish that it was Lilly sitting next to her on the bench.

  Robert followed her gaze and frowned. “Let’s walk to the river, Celia. We can sit under a tree and watch the boats go by.”

  Carrie folded her fan and laid it in her lap. “It’s too hot for a walk, Robert. You know Lilly doesn’t do well in the heat.”

  “Fine. She can stay here.”

  “You know she can’t. She’s my chaperone. She goes everywhere I go.”

  Robert lowered his voice to a rumbly whisper. “Does she have to sit on the porch with us?”

  Carrie plucked at her skirts. “Of course she does. What would my father say if he came home to find me sitting unaccompanied?”

  “I doubt he’d say very much. We’re going to be married in three weeks.”

  “But we’re not married yet, so Lilly has to stay.”

  Robert gave a frustrated sigh and tapped his knee with the brim of his hat. “Sometimes I wonder if you prefer her company to mine.”

  Carrie tried to keep her face still and neutral. “Lilly has been my companion since I was eight years old. She cares for me and takes her responsibility for guarding my honor quite seriously.”

  Robert slumped on the bench, pouting. “I want to kiss you, Celia. I rode five miles out of my way just in the hopes that you might say yes.”

  “Robert, please be patient. That time is coming fast enough.”

  “Don’t you want to kiss me?”

  Carrie gripped her fan tight in her fist. “How should I know?”

  Robert slapped his hat against his leg. “That’s what I love about you, Celia. You have such a wise innocence. How should you know, indeed, if you’ve never been kissed?” He put his hat back on his head and crossed his legs at the ankles. Dust from his boots fell onto the porch. “I suppose you’re right. There will be time enough for that in the years to come.” Robert folded his hands across his stomach and looked up at the bright blue sky. “I wonder what our life is going to be like. The world is changing so fast. Yesterday, I saw a motorcar on the Richmond road. The man driving said he had come all the way from Richmond in just four hours and only had to stop twice to change some tires. Can you imagine such a thing? It takes me all day to get to Richmond in a carriage and the horses have to stop all the time. It’s not any better on the canal.” Robert’s gazed dropped to the fountain.

  “Some day I’m going to have a motorcar.”

  Carrie snapped her fan open again and shooed a fly away from her head. “Someday everyone will have a motorcar and then there will be too many motorcars and not enough roads.

  Everyone will have to wait in long lines to get their turn on the road and no one will be able to go very fast after all.”

  Robert laughed. “I hope I live to see the day.”

  Carrie didn’t answer.

  Robert looked at her, his face suddenly grave. “I want you to be happy with me, Celia.”

  “I know you do, Robert. I believe your affection for me is genuine, but please understand that this is a very frightening time for a woman. It’s a big change to leave the place you’ve always known to go live with people whose habits are strange to you.”

  Robert tipped his hat back on his head. “Well then, I’ve good news for you. Your father’s asked that we live here with him until the children come. He says we can have over the whole upper east wing until we outgrow it and to heck with the guests. Does that make you less frightened?”

  Carrie’s eyes cut over to Lilly. “A little less,” she said. A light breeze blew a wisp of Lilly’s red hair across her face. Carrie watched her tuck it back behind her ear and then turn the page of her book. She thought of Lilly’s hands on her body, turning her pages, reading her slowly, line by line, as if she were the most fascinating book ever written. Lilly was as much a fixture of this house as the library was. Surely she would stay.

  “May I hold your hand?”

  Robert’s voice startled her. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “I asked if I may hold your hand.”

  “Oh.” With her eyes still on Lilly, Carrie held out her hand.

  Robert’s hand engulfed hers. It was big, broad and rough. Not at all like Lilly’s hands, though, her hands were rough, too. His palm felt wrong against hers, its shape and heat, the light sheen of sweat that slicked his skin, the itchy line of dark hair that dribbled over the back. She wanted to take her hand back, to go wash it in the basin with hot water and lye soap. She looked at his hand, an ugly hand, coarse-haired and knobby-knuckled, and then she looked at him to ask for her hand back. Robert’s smile stopped her. It was radiant, shining with a joy that she had only just recently seen in Lilly’s eyes. She looked back at Lilly. She was frowning at her from over the top of her book, lips pursed into a tight line. With deliberate movement, she turned her back to Carrie and buried her nose back in the pages of her book. Carrie’s hand in Robert’s felt dirty and unclean. Robert just sat and smiled.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The evening was just as warm as the day had been. Only the light breezes blowing in from the river made it any more bearable.

  Carrie lay on the top sheet on her back with her arms held out away from her body watching the canopy curtains billow and sway. Her chemise stuck to her skin. The only sound she heard was the loud burring of the cicadas, the croak of a frog and the occasional rustle of leaves shivering in the breeze.

  She turned over onto her side and rested her head in the palm of her hand. “Lilly, will you please talk to me?”

  “I’m reading.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Lilly scowled into her book. “Yes, I am.”

  Carrie reached over Lilly’s lap and tipped the book down.

  “You haven’t turned the page once since early this afternoon.”

  Lilly slammed the book shut and threw it across the room.

  It smacked against the wall and fell to the floor in a flutter of pages.

  Carrie blinked at her. “Okay. That’s something.”

  “I can’t do this, Celia.” Lilly’s eyes shone in the lamplight.

  “Do what, exactly?”

  “I can’t watch you be with Robert. I can’t watch him touch you. I can’t watch you look on him with the same eyes that you use to look at me. I can’t.”

  Carrie flopped onto her back and stared into the canopy.

  The curtains were as clean and white as Lilly could keep them.

  “Would you prefer that I swap eyes when he comes over? I’ll put in a pair of brown ones for him and keep blue ones exclusively for you.”

  Lilly shifted to look at Carrie, her face angry and outraged.

  “How can you joke?”

  Carrie sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I don’t know what else to do, Lilly. If you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it.”

  “Not this.” Lilly shook her head, her eyes blinking rapidly. “I don’t want this. It isn’t right that Robert can hold your hand in front of God and all his saints when I have to sneak up to your room at night to hold you in my arms.”

  “But I want you to sneak into my room at night. I want you to do it for the rest of our lives.”

  Lilly gave her an exasperated look. “Three weeks, Celia, and you’ll be sleeping in a different room. Or worse, Robert will be sleeping here in this room, our room, with you. I won’t be sneaking in at night when he’s lyi
ng right here in this bed.” She slapped the mattress with the flat of her hand. A mote of dust jumped, swirling into the air.

  Carrie looked at Lilly’s hand. For the last nine years, Lilly had spent more nights in bed beside her than she had in her own room downstairs in the servant’s quarters. Her mattress had a Lilly-sized dent on the side closest to the door. Carrie couldn’t imagine a Robert-sized dent. She tried to remember if there had been one.

  The room skittered and tilted. The red flowers on the wall seemed to fade. Carrie shivered in spite of the heat and reached to touch Lilly’s hand. It was still solid and warm, a steadying comfort. The room leveled and the flowers brightened. Lilly was staring at the book on the floor. It had landed facedown and open, its pages bent and creased underneath it. Carrie squinted her eyes to read the title. The Hound of the Baskervilles by A. Conan Doyle.

  “Nineteen oh-two,” she said softly to herself. She had read that one already and hadn’t liked it very much. She slid her hand over Lilly’s. “It won’t be so awful. I only have to spend one night sleeping next to Robert and after that I can keep a room of my own.”

  Lilly moved her hand away. “Don’t be ridiculous. Robert wants children. You’re going to have to sleep next to him more than once.”

  Carrie wrapped her arms back around her shins. “I don’t see what children have to do with it.”

  “Lord, have mercy, Celia.” Lilly looked at her with eyebrows raised. “Don’t you know where babies come from?”

  “Of course I do.” Carrie knew full well how babies were made, but Celia’s mind was a little fuzzy on the particulars. The room shuddered out of focus again as her disjointed thoughts collided.

  A small groan trickled up from her throat as her ears began to buzz. She put her head on her knees and closed her eyes.

  Carrie felt hands sliding through her hair, gathering it, lifting it up and off her back. Lips pressed against the nape of her neck.

  “I’m sorry.” Warm breath tickled against her skin.

  Carrie turned her head a fraction. “Don’t be sorry. You’re right to talk to me like that. I haven’t a mother to tell me these things.”

  Lilly stroked the base of her neck with gentle fingers. “My mother didn’t tell me such things either, but I had brothers and that was almost as good.”

  Carrie looked at her. The harshness of her tone was at odds with the soft stroke of her fingers. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

  Lilly’s fingers stilled and dropped away. “No. Mother sent me here before that could happen.”

  Carrie sat up straight. “Lilly, you never told me that.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to.” Lilly smoothed Carrie’s hair back from her face. “You were to think that I came here only to keep you company.”

  “I did think that.” Carrie touched the bend of Lilly’s knee.

  “I never dreamed there might be another reason. Lilly, I’m so sorry.”

  Lilly shrugged as if it didn’t mean anything much. “Mother did the best she could after father died, but she had to work long hours in the mill to keep food on the table.” Her eyes narrowed and then saddened again. “At least she cared enough to send me away. I don’t know what it cost her to send me here to you and be left with five boys and no one to help her.”

  Carrie thought of Lilly’s mother. Celia had met her once, before she died, and remembered her as a hard-faced woman, stooped and worn. “Oh, Lilly.”

  Lilly slipped an arm around her shoulders and Carrie laid her head against Lilly’s neck. Lilly’s other hand brushed at her cheek.

  “You’ve got that gray look about you again. Are you feeling all right?”

  “No, not really, but I think it’s just the heat. It’s awfully hot for June.”

  “There’s no accounting for weather,” Lilly said tugging at Carrie’s shoulders, laying her on the bed. She stretched out next to her, close but not touching. Carrie could feel the heat of her body and it warmed her in a way that had nothing to do with the summer sun. She reached out to touch her.

  Lilly stopped her hand. “Tomorrow is Sunday.”

  An escaped curl of shimmering red lay draped across the pillow. Carrie tugged at it gently, twirling the ends around the tip of her finger. “Yes. That’s most unfortunate since it means we can’t sleep late. Father will be expecting us up for church.” Carrie smiled at her but Lilly looked serious. Almost sad. Carrie’s smile faded. “What about Sunday?”

  “Your father will be home all day.”

  “True. And?”

  Lilly gently pulled her hair out of Carrie’s hand. “I’m going to tell him that I’m leaving.”

  Carrie sat up. “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.” Lilly rolled over and looked at Carrie. Her face was set. “I’m going to ask him for the carriage on Monday to take me to the train, and if he won’t lend me the carriage, I’ll walk.”

  “Lilly, why?”

  “I’m going to go live with Aunt May in Richmond. I’ve already written her. She said I could come.”

  Carrie stared at her, mouth agape. “Why would you want to go live with Aunt May?”

  “She needs someone to keep house for her, and what better use is there for a poor relation?” Lilly said with a sour smile.

  “No, Lilly,” Carrie said, shaking her head. “You can’t leave. I need you here with me.”

  Lilly didn’t look at her. “I’ve always planned to leave when Robert took you away from me. This is just a little sooner than that.”

  “But he’s not taking me away, Lilly. You heard him. We’re going to live here. You can stay.”

  “And do what? Be a sneak?” Lilly’s face was fierce and angry, but she still didn’t look at Carrie.

  Carrie touched Lilly’s stomach. “I like it when you sneak.”

  She slid her hand up to cup the underside of Lilly’s breast.

  Lilly grabbed her wrist and moved her hand away. “I can’t stay with you and Robert. Celia, you must understand. What you’re asking me to do is too hard.”

  Carrie shook her head and cradled her hand. “I don’t understand. You can’t leave me here by myself. You can’t leave me. You just can’t.” She curled up beside Lilly and laid her head on her middle.

  Carrie felt Lilly’s fury trembling underneath her cheek. She held herself still for a long count of seconds waiting for Lilly to slap her away. But Lilly took a deep breath and blew her anger away in a sharp stream of air. She reached down a hand and stroked Carrie’s hair, twisting the strands and letting them run through her fingers.

  “How can you ask me to stay?” Her voice was soft and choked.

  “Do you think I want to watch you fall in love with your own husband? Do you think I want to lay awake at night in my own little room in my cold narrow bed imagining what he’s doing to you, how his hands are touching you? Do you think I could stand that?”

  “It won’t mean anything when he touches me. I don’t love him, Lilly. I don’t. I never will.”

  “Of course you will. Isn’t that the way God intended it to be?” The question was sharp and bitter.

  Carrie lifted her head. “You don’t have to play the martyr for me, Lilly.”

  “And you don’t have to play the simpleton.” Lilly tapped her lightly on the nose. “You know what I’m saying. I have to leave here before both of our hearts break or something even worse happens. There’s no other choice.”

  Carrie rubbed her nose against Lilly’s chemise. “There’s always a choice. I won’t sleep next to him at all if you don’t want me to.”

  Lilly laughed, short, sharp and abrupt. “He’ll be your husband. You’ll have to sleep next to him whether you want to or not.”

  “I’ll say no.”

  “He’ll force you.”

  Carrie turned her head. “He wouldn’t dare.” The thought was outrageous.

  “Of course he would dare. He’ll be your husband. It’ll be his right to take anything he wants from your body, your boudoir or from your bank
account. You’ll belong to him and anything that belongs to you will belong to him.”

  “And you want to leave me with that?” Carrie sat up again.

  Lilly sat up, too, but she didn’t look at Carrie. She looked at her lap, her face collapsed into miserable lines. “Once the children come, you’ll have something else to love. After a time, you won’t think of me anymore.”

  Carrie reached for her hand and held it in both of hers. “Lilly, I swear, if I live to be a hundred years old, I’ll spend my dying breath saying your name.”

  Lilly’s head fell back against the headboard with a thump.

  “Merciful Lord, Celia, you’re making this so hard.”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  Lilly shook her head, her eyes still pointed up into the canopy.

  “It’s too hot to be arguing like this.” She sat up and started to get out of bed. “Let me get a cool cloth for your head.”

  “No.” Carrie held on to her hand and pulled her back again. “Lilly, don’t leave. Not now. Not Monday. Not ever. Please.”

  Lilly looked at Carrie and touched her cheek. “Would you really choose me over Robert?” Lilly asked the question as if she didn’t believe the answer could be a good one and then Carrie saw her eyes widen with surprise. “You would, wouldn’t you? You really do…” She closed her mouth without finishing her thought.

  “Oh, Celia.” She leaned over Carrie and kissed her. Her mouth was warm. Her breath blew hot against Carrie’s cheek.

  I would, Carrie thought as she opened herself to Lilly’s lips and tongue. Lilly’s hands ran lightly over Carrie’s skin, down her arms and under her chemise. I do, she thought with the brush of her palms, the stroke of her tongue. Carrie pulled Lilly to her. She lost herself in the warm press of skin, the shushing of sheets, the creak of the bed in rhythm with sweat slicked sliding of hips and breasts. Lilly’s hands moved over her, down her belly, between her thighs. She slipped inside her and Carrie lost all track of time and place, where she ended and where Lilly began.