“If you're going to work for me, don't you ever treat any of my animals this way again. I will not accept sloppy care, do you understand?” Max shouted, his face red, his green eyes flashing.

  “They were only saddle sores. Easily treated,” Frank replied, his own face red in the heat.

  “No, the animals lacked proper care and feeding, plus the horse had saddle sores, which shows neglect. They're treatable, but only when someone puts salve on them.”

  Frank stood there. “The horses are not ridden that much around here.”

  “If you don't like the way I expect your work to be completed, then you're free to pack your bags and leave.”

  She'd never seen Max angry before and somehow he seemed more imposing and looked less like the drifter she knew him to be. Whatever gentleness she'd seen in his demeanor before was hidden by the imposing man who now stood before Frank. Was Max another man with a hidden side?

  “I doubt that Mrs. Cuvier would like my leaving,” her overseer said in an arrogant tone of voice as he leaned in close to Max.

  For a moment Nicole felt certain fists would start flying and she waited to see which man would throw the first punch. She started to intervene and then decided to see how Max handled the man who managed her field hands.

  “You mean Mrs. Viel, my wife,” Max said pointedly.

  The overseer said nothing, but stared at Max, his expression clearly not happy but defiant. For a moment Nicole felt a twinge of anxiety as she feared the man would leave. What would she do when Max eventually left if she had no overseer? Someone must help her run the plantation, as she couldn't do it alone.

  “I expect the animals in that barn to be treated with fresh hay and water every day and I will require you to make sure that the sores on that horse are doctored. Are we clear?” Max asked his voice stern.

  “Yes, sir,” the man said, not looking at Max.

  “Good.”

  Nicole watched Max turn and walk away from the man into the cool shade below the house. She hurried down the back stairs and into the storage area beneath the house, surprised at how neat and tidy the small room appeared. The last time she ventured in here the area had been cluttered with lumber and empty wine casks. She'd asked Jean about having the workers straighten the space, but he'd said not to worry, he'd take care of it. Now the place looked neat and orderly with everything in its proper place, and she knew Jean had never pushed the servants to have it cleaned.

  “Who did this?” she asked in awe as she twirled around the aboveground basement.

  Max looked up from going through a trunk of tools. He raised his brows. “Me and several of the men organized everything almost two days ago.”

  Nicole stared at the man in front of her, that feeling of uncertainty coming back again. For a man who was just here for a few months, she would have assumed he would ask before he took control, but somehow she knew that wasn't his personality. Yet it disturbed her that he seemed to be acting more like an owner than a visitor. Or was she just experiencing yet another case of pregnancy nerves?

  “I wish you would have told me before you cleaned this area,” she said, knowing she should be grateful but frightened of the significance of his actions.

  “Why?” he asked. “Would it have made a difference?”

  “No, but I would like to have been included in the decision,” she said, feeling somehow left out.

  “Everything that I threw out is sitting right outside in a pile, if you'd like to go through it,” he said, agitated. He picked up a wooden plank and began to use a rectangular metal blade on the wood.

  “No. No, I just wish you had told me you were going to do this,” she said, knowing that it sounded silly, but still feeling the need to be involved in her plantation. Just because she had remarried didn't mean she no longer participated in the decision-making regarding Rosewood.

  Rosewood belonged to her and this marriage was mainly a farce that existed to protect her child.

  His eyes glanced at her and darkened as he gazed at her, studying her face. “I didn't think it necessary for me to ask your permission if I'm going to work while I'm here.”

  She shrugged, the feel of his annoyed gaze on her making her uncomfortable. Maybe he was right in that he didn't need to ask her consent, but was it asking too much to want to be involved? “You're right. Just tell me what's going on, so that I know.”

  He bent his head and went back to sanding.

  Nicole walked around the room looking at the shelves that he'd built, the way everything had a place.

  “Where did you get the lumber?” she asked, knowing she owed money at the lumber mill in town and doubted they would extend her a loan with the publicity of Jean's death.

  “I found it around here,” he said, not looking at her as he picked up a new piece of oak and began to scrape the wood with the cabinet scraper.

  She couldn't remember seeing any lumber just lying around, but then she'd been gone for two months so maybe Max found a stack she knew nothing about.

  She touched the cabinets, running her hand along the smooth woodwork. “This is very nice.”

  “Thank you,” he said, gazing up at her, and then returned his attention to the board he scraped.

  “Why were you yelling at Frank?” she asked, finally getting to the question that caused her to follow him into the dark, musty room.

  The muscles in his forearms stood out hard and strong as he moved the cabinet scraper back and forth along the board, smoothing out the rough edges. “Who said I yelled?”

  “I heard you on the verandah,” she said.

  He stopped rubbing the scraper against the board and stared at her. “There were several horses in the barn that had been neglected. None of the stalls had been cleaned in days and the animals needed feed. No one treats my animals with such disrespect”

  “Oh,” she said. “Your animals?”

  Max frowned at her and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “So they're yours. But while I'm here I won't allow the mistreatment of any animals under my care.” He stood there staring at her, his gaze uncertain. “Why all the questions?”

  She frowned, realizing her fears seemed unfounded, but expressing them just the same. “In the last week, you've done so much around here that one would get the idea you intend to stay. I just want you to understand that you are only needed until I have the baby.”

  “We've gone over this before. I understand. But also recognize that while I'm here, I'm going to do a good job of helping you with your plantation. I don't believe in doing something halfway and, excuse me for saying so, but, most of your workers have been cheating you.”

  Nicole stood there, stunned for a moment, as the man she barely knew made candid accusations about her field hands and foreman. Part of her thought she should be grateful for his forthright disclosure, but part of her wanted to hold tightly to the power she felt slipping through her fingers. She reminded herself he would only be here until the baby was born, and if she could convince him to leave and then return, that would be even better.

  “Are you saying I don't know how to run a plantation?” she asked, feeling the hackles on the back of her neck rise.

  “No, I never said that. I said your workers have an even lazier foreman and were taking advantage of the situation. But not for long.”

  “What makes you think that they're lazy and that Frank hasn't done a good job?” she asked perplexed.

  His gaze met and held hers. “Because a good overseer would have already taken care of the things I've done this week. I shouldn't have to tell them to clean the flower beds, repair the doors, and clean the horse stalls. Those things should be done automatically. He should lead the workers to get those items taken care of.”

  “How do you know? Have you worked as an overseer before?”

  “No, but I know I would never accept sloppy work from any worker.”

  She knew he was right, but that didn't mean she liked the truths he revealed. In fact, she'd known that Frank had a lazy streak, but hadn't wanted to search for a new foreman.

  “Frank is still here only because I didn't think I should fire him without your say-so. But it won't take much more for me to let him go without your permission,” he said, his frustration evident in his voice.

  “I would prefer that you didn't. I'll need him once you're gone,” she said.

  “You could find a better man,” he said.

  “Maybe, but I'm not ready to find out,” Nicole said. “This is my plantation and you won't be here all that long.”

  “Why would you want someone who isn't doing his job properly?” he asked. “Your profits will improve if the plantation runs smoothly and your workers work.”

  “Look, up until a year ago, I couldn't hire enough workers,” she said. “It wasn't until the Louisiana Sugar Plantation Association became involved that we could find enough men to do the job. It's taken me three years just to learn about the planting side; I'm still dealing with the issues involved with field-workers.”

  “You should have worked on them first. Usually one of the men knows the trade and can help you.” He looked up at her, his gaze setting her heart to pounding. “Without a good overseer, you usually don't get enough work out of your workers.”

  Max returned to his woodworking as Nicole walked around the new cabinets and ran her hand along the smooth wood, ignoring his last comment. Jean had never seen to the plantation. He'd said it was all hers to run, though she had never been in charge of field hands and knew very little about running a plantation. But she loved this place, and she was still learning some of the details that made it run smoother.

  “You know, you don't have to stay here until the baby is born. You can leave and return before I have the child,” she said, thinking maybe that would be best before Max became too involved.

  He smiled at her and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “I know, you've told me. Are you trying to get rid of me so soon?”

  “Oh, no. I just didn't want you to feel that you had to stay here the entire time and toil. If there was someplace you needed to be, you could always return later.”

  “And leave that sugarcane crop to that bumpkin of a foreman you have?” he asked. “I don't think so. I want my share of the profits.”

  She stared at him, a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Somehow she'd hoped that he wouldn't be so intent on earning his share to stay here and protect it, but then again, she doubted that he'd ever seen the amount of cash the crop could bring in and he wouldn't dare leave it now. And maybe that was a good thing for both of them. For she needed that money as badly as he.

  “I guess I'm glad you feel that way, because that crop is very important to this plantation,” she said, not willing to trust him with the knowledge that without a good sugarcane crop, she would be forced to sell.

  He stared at her, his eyes dark and warm. “If I didn't feel that way, it wouldn't do either one of us any good.”

  “No, you're right. It's difficult for me to let someone just take over.”

  A smile lit his face and then he turned back to running the scraper along the wood. “Who knows, you might get used to it and actually enjoy a man being in charge.”

  She felt a brief moment of fear. “Doubtful, since I never intend to let a man have that kind of control over me ever again. I married you for your name, not your looks, or your brain, or even your management abilities. Just merely your name for my child.”

  He smiled. “Better be careful, Mrs. Viel. What you just said could become a challenge to most men, just to prove you wrong. Just to show you that having the right man take care of you and the plantation would be enjoyable.”

  ***

  The next morning before the sun heated the inside of the house, Nicole took Consuelo and together the two of them went into the spare bedroom where the servants had piled all of Jean's things and began the ugly task of sorting through his clothes, jewelry, and other belongings. Nicole had put this off as long as possible, but suddenly she knew she needed to remove Jean's things from the house. She'd been home going on almost four weeks and remarried for a little over a week. She needed to get on with her life, though barely two months had passed since she'd learned of Jean's betrayal. The pain still bled like an open wound, while her sorrow had been transformed to near hate at how he'd deceived her.

  “Well, Consuelo, I guess the best thing to do is to start sorting. I'm going to donate all of his clothes to the church, but I'll need to look through his jewelry and things. Most I'll keep for the baby, and whatever's left, I'll send to Mrs. Cuvier in New Orleans.”

  Nicole gazed at the pile of things in front of them, including a locked trunk she'd never seen before.

  “Where did that trunk come from?” she asked.

  Consuelo looked at the small wooden steamer trunk.

  “Noah found it in the back of Jean's armoire.”

  “Do you know where the key that unlocks it is?”

  “I've never seen this trunk before the day Noah found it.”

  “You know, I bet we could break into it pretty easily,” she said, her hand running over the lock.

  “I'll get one of the men to break the lock for us.” Consuelo hurried out the door.

  Nicole stared at the clothes and remembered the times she'd seen Jean in the different garments. She felt a pang of heartache as she picked up one shirt and held it to her nose, his smell faint upon the cloth. How could she have fallen in love with a man who never valued marriage? Why hadn't she recognized his total disregard for the sanctity of marriage before he disgraced her? And how could he keep such a secret from all his wives?

  Tears pricked her eyes and she threw the offensive garment in a pile. Quickly she moved to the next one, going through each item, tossing them into separate piles.

  Consuelo returned and in a matter of moments, Noah had the lock open. After the field hand left the room, Nicole lifted the lid and started to go through mementos of Jean's childhood. She saved a few things for her child and the rest she decided to pack up to send to Mrs. Cuvier's children. At the bottom of the trunk lay an old blanket. When she reached under the woolen cloth she found a book. She picked up the torn and spotted leather- bound volume and glanced at it.

  “Look at this,” she said.

  She opened the journal and the spine fell to a rose that had been pressed between the pages. With interest she read the entry.

  Today was a most joyous day as my lover came to visit and we walked to the park on Magnolia Street.

  He gave me a rose and promised me that soon we would be together forever. If only his naive wife would realize that she's no good for him and let him go, but he refuses to leave her until their children are older. I've yet to tell him that soon we will have our own child and that our love will know no bounds. I fear what my brother will say when he learns of the child. These last few years since Mama and Papa's death, he's been so kind to take care of me and I feel like I've betrayed him by falling in love with someone who is unable to be open with his love. Someday our love will be obvious for the world to see. Until then, I will care for our child. If it's a boy, I'll name him Jean after his father.

  Nicole dropped the book, her fingers tingling with awareness.

  She reached down and picked up the journal again, flipping back to the front of the diary where the owner's name should be written, only to discover the jagged remnants of the missing pages that had been ripped from the book. Nicole thumbed through the pages looking for any other evidence of the woman's identity, but the names she saw were unfamiliar.

  Dear God, another woman! Yet this one had known of his marriage. But did she know he had not one extra wife, but three?

  In a fit of anger, Nicole threw the book against the wall, hating Jean because he was nothing like the man she'd loved and married. Nothing about her life with him had been real.

  ***

  Nicole sat in the cool shade of the verandah, the diary open on her lap. She hadn't been able to read the pages as she watched a schooner making its way down the river. She could see the men working on deck as they passed Rosewood, her thoughts on the woman in the diary. She couldn't stop thinking about the woman's journal and her relationship with Jean. How another woman had believed the lies of that scoundrel she'd once been married to.

  The young woman's memoirs began ten years ago, when she was a young debutante of seventeen. Filled with hopes and dreams and the events of a society girl's life, Nicole found the account hard to read, knowing that at some point in the story, her life would cross with Jean's and be forever changed. Just like Nicole's life would never be the same.

  “Mrs. Nicole, I hate to disturb you but...” Consuelo stood at Nicole's side, wringing her hands.

  Nicole glanced up at the woman who had been her servant since childhood. “What's wrong, Consuelo?”

  “Your husband, Mr. Viel, the field hands say that he fired Mr. Frank,” she said, visibly upset at the news.

  “What?” Nicole said, stunned as she swung her legs over the side of the chair. “Why would he do that? Max knows I depend on Frank.”

  This is what she got for marrying a man she hardly knew. A man who, for all appearances, seemed very passive, yet in the week he'd been here, had managed to create quite a sensation. Even Jean's occasional trips home had never created this kind of stir.

  Nicole stood and started for the inside of the house, Consuelo following her. “They say he caught Mr. Frank stealing, but I don't know what he took.”

  When Max left she would need an overseer she could trust. As far as she knew, Frank had never stolen from her before. Surely this was a mistake, a misunderstanding.

  Nicole felt a moment of pure rage at the man she called husband. Frank had been with her since the very beginning and Max could just find him and bring him back to Rosewood. Why would Max do this without consulting her? Because this rambler liked things done his way and he especially liked being in charge.

  The memory of Max telling her that her foreman was lazier than the field hands suddenly came to mind. Still, she needed someone to direct the field hands. And she certainly wasn't going to be in any kind of condition to oversee the men after the baby came—or even before.

 

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