Until Tomorrow by Jill Marie Landis

Author:Jill Marie Landis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bell Bridge books
Published: 2017-08-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Even if you don’t know where you’re headed, it’s better to be on the road of life than off.

Nanny James

THE CLAYTONS’ house was everything Cara had hoped it would be and more. For one thing, it was still standing, and it looked to be in good repair compared to many of the others she’d seen on her journey across the countryside. For another, it was larger than she could have imagined—Clay’s family had obviously been wealthy and seemed to have somehow retained their wealth. She figured they would be folks who knew how to recover. There would be no worry where Clay’s next mouthful might come from.

Someone was still taking infinite care with the rose garden laid out in front of the wide, welcoming veranda. There was a porch swing, a row of rockers begging to be occupied, shutters at the windows. In comparison to every other house she had seen in her life, including the hotels and boardinghouses she’d stayed in during her travels with Dake, this was a mansion, a palace, a perfect home for Clay.

She offered to pay the farmer who had driven her out to the house, but he refused with a shake of his head and a smile before he bid her farewell. It had been far easier than she had suspected to purchase her stagecoach tickets from Decatur to Gadsden. Once there, she inquired at the first boardinghouse she found. A widow down on her luck was willing to rent her a room in the newly opened establishment. Cara stored her boxes and changed into the dove-gray dress she’d purchased in Poplar Bluff rather than overdress. From what she had seen of the women in the South, they took pride in the sacrifices they had made during the war. She didn’t wish to flaunt her new gowns before them.

“This is it, Clay,” she whispered, hugging him close and then turning slightly so the baby on her shoulder could raise his wobbly head and stare at the imposing white edifice where his mother had been raised.

As she held him tight and walked up the brick walk that led to the veranda, Anna Clayton’s bracelet pressed into the flesh at her wrist. It was an elegantly scrolled piece of gold far more costly than anything anyone in her family had ever possessed.

She found herself standing, as yet unnoticed, before a wide front door. Reaching up, she grabbed the brass door knocker and let it fall three times. As if he sensed her nervousness, Clay began to squirm. The door opened just as she was shifting him from one shoulder to the other.

“Yes, ’em?” A Negress a few inches shorter and a good ten years older than Cara with flawless, glowing skin of ebony stared up at her. She wore a plain, unadorned gown of cotton ticking and a wide red shawl tied about her shoulders.

“Are the Claytons at home?”

The woman was eyeing Clay and Cara in turn. “Miz Clayton is. Mr. Clayton been gone a year now.

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