Episode 4

Two weeks later, aunt and niece reconvened for the purpose of reading a journal which threatened to fall apart at any moment.

“Auntie! You have improved remarkably this week!”

“Niece, I am so happy you have been able to pop in once in a while. Are you staying longer this time?

Phee grew crimson at the thought she had not often lingered when visiting her aunt during the latter’s illness.

“I thought perhaps we could return to my little story I wrote long ago.”

“Auntie, I truly am delighted you are on the mend. And, of course, I very much desire to resume!”

Miss Eugenia handed over the fragile volume and Phee began.

Months passed. One day, I visited my cousin’s tavern in the nearby village.

There, I saw Mrs. Zora McQueen, seated at a back table with her husband. I almost did not recognize her. Plaits wound atop her head in a fanciful manner. She wore a diaphanous frock in white with green vines embroidered upon it.

On her feet, which had not a speck of dust, were green velvet slippers. She gathered a silken jade-colored shawl around her shoulders, and golden bangles hung from her wrists. Zora’s hair was lighter-colored than I remembered, of a hue rare in the untamed wilderness.

Zora glanced up and saw me from across the room.

“Miss Jones? Delightful!” She waved me back to her table.

I obliged, blushing.

Chief Half-Moon arose pulled out a chair for me.

Given he was in English dress and in a White establishment with ladies present, I felt I should call him Mr. McQueen. This was particularly true since he wore an elegantly-cut dark blue suit, cream-colored shirt, and a green ascot which matched his wife’s shawl.

Mr. McQueen’s hair was again in a top-knot, the only nod to his Creek heritage.

“Miss Jones, it is good to see you,” he stated in refined English more common amongst the upper classes.

Then he smiled. His teeth were white and straight, and I had not before observed his dimples! Charming! I blushed and wondered if my reddened cheeks were noticeable. I used to wonder why girls made such a fuss over my brother’s dimples. Now, I better understand.

My lips parted, but no words escaped. I am certain my eyes grew wide.

Zora spoke. “It is our great fortune to reacquaint ourselves with Miss Jones, is it not?” she said to her husband. He smiled again and responded, “Indeed!”

Mrs. McQueen kept peering across the room, as though she was expecting someone and upon seeing an older, elegant gentleman enter the room, she exclaimed, “He has arrived!”

The man nodded to the couple as he crossed the room.

“Father, it is good to see you in fine health,” said Zora. Her father!

He was finely acquitted, so I assume he is as wealthy as he is well-respected. He was tall and clothed entirely in black. Regarding him closely, I realized how handsome he is. Perhaps a better word is “distinguished.” His hair is wavy, the color of coal, and his eyes, striking gray. Streaks of silver course through his locks.

“Father, may I present Miss Jones, an intelligent sprite here in the wilderness,” said Zora.

“Enchante´.”

French! It has been a long while since I spoke it, and I was never accomplished at it.

“And Miss Jones, this is my father, the Honorable Winston Black,” she added.

A judge! This was a revelation.

“Have you journeyed long?” I inquired, hoping I was not intruding into his privacy.

“I have just come from Philadelphia.” He took a sip of sherry that had just arrived at the table. “I have business in Mobile, and this is not too distant from the path there. Although, I believe next time I shall omit looking in on my daughter and sail around the Floridas instead.” He added, “It would be much safer and more comfortable.”

“I am most happy to learn you are well and may have a visit with your daughter,” I remarked. “I do not wish to further intrude, so I shall take my leave.”

Father and daughter exchanged glances, which told me they wished me to stay.

“Miss Jones, I would be delighted if you could join us for a light meal,” he said. “Can you recommend anything?”

“Thank you for the invitation. I have not dined here often enough to offer guidance.” If I had not been so curious, I would have left. But, a desire to learn more overcame me. While dining with Mrs. Zora McQueen, her father, and the chief, she asked if I might come to her place for tea. I felt uncomfortable about going, and she sensed this.

“Did you expect I was offering you tea while we squatted on a dirt floor of a hut?” She was both amused and yet concerned.

“I am certain it will be more civilized than what I have experienced,” I chuckled. “I have only been once before, when my sister’s illness required me to forget my fears.”

“Ours is not the only plantation-style home owned by a chief and his wife,” she continued. “Nor is it unusual for the first wife to live one way and the second to have a different manner of living. My home is thus quite different from what you have seen.”

I tried to imagine such a thing. I have heard a few chiefs own plantations and have grand homes. But I did not expect such a residence was near mine.

Mrs. McQueen smiled affectionately at her father. “We have you to thank for our home,” she beamed. The Honorable Mr. Black gave a slight smile, but he assumed a serious look when replying.

“We had a time of it before we got everything settled, did we not, much of it laborious. It was quite the undertaking.”

Mr. Stirling McQueen was silent throughout the dinner exchanges. Out of place in the conversation, he shifted in his seat several times during the meal.

I, too, was an intruder. I was uncertain why they invited me to join them, but I knew I should be going. Zora asked if the following Sunday afternoon at three would be appropriate for tea, and I told her, yes, and added I believed our slave knew the way.

Phee was so immersed in reading the book, she had not noticed her aunt was asleep. That is, until she heard snoring.