John paused in thought before adding, 'He plans to stay with us some. His parents are both dead.'
Perry decided not to ask about Hunter and Wade's relationship. She could tell the Williamses were too polite to say more than they already had, so Wade Williams was dropped from the conversation.
The miles passed rapidly and Perry enjoyed the company greatly. Finally John slowed the horses, and pointed to a huge plantation nestled among three old oaks. 'There's your grandfather's place, Three Oaks. I've only been here a few times myself. Your grandfather likes to keep to himself. I believe a man has that right.'
Perry smiled. 'I've never been here. I was only a girl the last time I saw him. How well do you know him?'
John shrugged. 'I don't know much about him. People say his wife died in childbirth. They say he was devoted to his only child. There used to be parties all the time up here. When the daughter left, he closed the doors to his home. To my knowledge no one has been in there since, except servants. The few times I've been over to talk business, we sat on the porch.'
Almost to herself Perry whispered, 'I hope he'll be glad to see me.'
Mary smiled and patted Perry's hand. 'Of course he will.'
They entered her grandfather's drive. The oaks seemed to be protecting the house, warning all people to stay back. The drive was overgrown, telling Perry that very few carriages came to or left this place. A flock of birds flew screaming over their heads, frightening Perry with their sudden unwelcoming call. No other signs of life surrounded the house. The empty corrals and dilapidated stables seemed to be telling her silently to stay away.
Chapter 11
The Williamses refused to come in for refreshments as they pulled up in front of Perry's grandfather's house. She was thankful, for she had no idea what awaited her behind the closed doors. She hugged them both good-bye, promising to visit soon. When John stepped back to lift her trunk down, she handed him the envelope Abram had given her. He looked confused for a moment, then slipped the letter into his breast pocket.
Perry stretched and kissed his thin cheek. 'Thank you for meeting me and bringing me here.''
Aging gray eyes turned serious. 'It is I who am in your debt.' He patted the papers beneath his jacket.
She opened her mouth to deny his statement, but his eyes encouraged her to remain silent.
Perry turned and climbed the steps to the double-doored entrance of her grandfather's house. She threaded her way across a large porch cluttered with wicker furniture. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw John and Mary Williams waiting at the buggy to ensure she was inside before leaving. In a few minutes Perry could stop asking herself whether or not her grandfather would welcome her. For soon she would know one way or the other.
Determination raised her chin as she lifted the knocker and rapped three times. The brass settled back against a door badly in need of painting.
Seconds passed. Footsteps somewhere within crept toward the door. She waited. Her journey had been so long, but these last few moments seemed endless.
The door creaked open, revealing an ancient servant in worn clothes. His thin black hand shielded his eyes from the bright sun, as though it had been years since he'd ventured into the bright light.
Deciding she'd be well into her thirties before he greeted her, Perry announced, 'I'm Perry McLain. May I please speak with my grandfather?'
Shock registered on the old man's face as his eyes adjusted. He seemed like a figure carved in granite. She debated stepping around him, until he finally found his voice. 'Yes, miz. We've been expecting you. Your maid, Noma, arrived more than a week ago.'
He hesitated before continuing, 'Miz, you sure is the image of your mama. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you was the ghost of Miz Allison.' With this he stepped back to allow her to enter. 'I'll get your bags. You'll find your grandfather in the study.'' A twitch of a smile cracked the dark stone of his face. 'Study's the second door on your left.'
'Thank you.'
The old man moved onto the porch. 'James, Miz. Ev-er'body just calls me Old James.'
Perry followed him down the steps to say a last goodbye to the Williamses.
As she followed him back up the steps James lowered his head. 'Your grandpa, he hasn't been feelin' too well, Miz Perry.'' His words were little more than a mumble as he struggled with her trunk.
Perry wondered if his statement was an apology or a warning. She hesitated a second before entering the cool darkness of the entry hall. All the shutters were drawn, giving the house a cavelike dampness. She moved slowly down the hall to her left, allowing herself time to study each room. It was obvious that no energy had been spent cleaning or dusting in years. Once beautiful furnishings were now covered with the dull hue of neglect.
The study door stood ajar, not wide enough to be welcoming. Perry straightened her jacket and lifted her chin and her hopes as she stepped inside. Stale smoke hung in the room like a low cloud, assaulting her senses. Papers and books littered every table and chair, in no apparent order. Discarded clothing and empty bottles cluttered the floor. An old man relaxed by a dying fire, his feet propped on a stool. For an instant Perry thought she was looking at a dusty painting. Everything about him and his surroundings was faded. His hair was a dull gray and his clothes a washed-out blue. He stared at her with watery, colorless eyes.
As Perry's presence registered on the old gentleman he stood slowly, holding the arm of his tattered chair for support. 'Allison, you've come home,' he whispered as a tear weaved through the lines of his wrinkled cheek. 'Allison, my dear,' he whispered again as a glass fell from his hand and shattered.
Perry ran toward him, tears spilling over freely as she realized his mistake. 'No, Grandfather, I'm Perry. Allison was my mother.' Her words didn't reach him. 'I'm Perry, Grandfather,' she cried again.
A flood of tears came to his eyes, along with a degree of awareness. He held his hands up to her. 'Perry. You're Perry? Welcome, Granddaughter.'
Perry moved into his arms, hugging him tightly. He smelled, as he had years before, of dust and tobacco. She didn't remember the smell of brandy, which now clung to him as thickly as a layer of sweat.
He patted her on the back as he held her. 'I'm so glad you're home,' he mumbled again and again.
Perry was uncertain if he thought he held her or her mother, but at this moment she didn't care. It was good to be welcomed.
In an explosion of noise the door flew open and Noma appeared, wailing and waving her arms like an overstuffed scarecrow in a tornado. She ran to Perry, tears streaming down her brown cheeks. 'My baby, you're all right!' she yelled. 'I knew Captain Williams would find you and send you here safely. He promised he would, but I was worried sick.'
Perry left her grandfather's arms to be swallowed up in Noma's hug. As the slave cried, Perry tried to comfort her. 'Oh, Noma, it's all over. We're together now, nothing else matters.' What Noma had done suddenly didn't matter, now that she was safe. Perry thought of telling her the truth about Wade, but that would only torture Noma's thoughts.
Turning once again to her grandfather, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. 'Please excuse me while I change. It's been a long journey.' The weariness of the trip was lightened by the knowledge that she now had a place to stay and a grandfather who, if somewhat loose in his grip on reality, nevertheless welcomed her.
'Yes, yes, dear.' The old man waved his wrinkled hand as though it were a rag attached to his arm. 'I'll see you at dinner. Noma will show you to your room.' As he spoke the last few words, he lowered himself back into his chair, exhausted.
Perry followed Noma up the stairs. They moved down the long hall to the last room in silence. The dark, brooding atmosphere of the house whispered through the hallway and clung to the pictures and ornaments in moody shadows.
The door hinges to the last room screamed from neglect as Noma forced it wide. 'This was your mother's room, Miz Perry. I cleaned it for you. I'll have James oil the door tomorrow.''
Perry hesitantly slipped inside, half fearing what she might see, but the room was bright and lacy, decorated in shades of blue. Everything, from the bed to the dressing table, seemed to have been built to Perry's height. If rooms had arms, this one's would be open wide. 'Oh, Noma, I love it. Look, there's even a room for a lady's maid over here.' Perry ran around the room, clasping her hands in delight. A feeling of welcome seemed to touch her, a warm
