Mankillers

“It’s not the place, but the people.”

“Sarah?”

“She’s in mourning and involved in legal matters.” Buck smiled. “But I can wait.”

Asa chuckled. “As the rabbi says, Lord, give me patience and give it to me right now.”

“He’s quite a man, isn’t he?”

“There’s someone else too, Buck. I told you once that I didn’t think a woman—” He stopped, even now unwilling to bring up his shame.

“Who?” Buck asked with a friendly grin, suspecting he was about to meet Rebecca.

For a moment Asa bowed his head, then looked up, his face almost radiant. He turned to the doorway at the end of the foyer and made a waving motion. Out stepped a woman who couldn’t have been more than about twenty-one. Her brown hair was tucked under a chambermaid’s cap. She had tiny freckles on her nose and cheeks and soft brown eyes.

Asa and the girl . . . woman made no moves to touch each other, yet Buck could easily imagine them holding hands when no one was looking.

“Buck, er . . . Dr. Thomson, this is Rebecca Cu

She curtsied nervously before he had a chance to extend his hand. “Rebecca, I’m very glad to meet you.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir. Asa’s told me so much about you.”

Buck glanced at his friend. “If it was anything good, I hope he exaggerated.”

“Oh, he did, sir. He said you were his best friend, the salt of the earth—” she paused for a heartbeat “—with a little pepper added.”

Buck laughed out loud. “He’s got me pegged.”

“I hope to see you again, sir,” she told him, then turned to Asa. “You’d best take him in. The rabbi’s waiting.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Buck didn’t miss the love he saw in Asa’s eyes as the pretty young woman fled down the hall and disappeared through a side door.

“Congratulations. What was it I heard the rabbi say the other day? Mazel something?”

“Mazel tov.” He showed Buck into the rabbi’s study.

“Shalom,” the old man greeted him.

“That means peace, right? Shalom to you.”

“You’re a quick learner. You are well? Sit. Sit.” To Asa he said, “Please tell Sophie we’ll want tea later.”

“Yes, rabbi.” Asa left the room and closed the door behind him.

“So,” the old man said, “what do you have to tell me today? I’ll listen.”

“The only position I can find here is as a surgeon. I don’t want to do that anymore. I’ve sent out letters but it’s too soon to hear anything back. My life’s rather quiet now. I thought during the war I’d give anything for quiet, but too much seems as difficult as too little.”

“Don’t grumble. There’ll be time for that later. Now, I’m listening.”

“We talked about so much last time, I think I’ve run out of things to say.”

“So, tell me what you dream.”

#

She breezed through the door of the Weinberg legal firm. “You have news?”

“Didn’t I tell you I’d take care of things? The Drexels dropped their suit and have signed papers giving up all future claims to Greenwald Enterprises.”

“How did you do it?” Sarah seated herself on the edge of an upholstered chair. “You said a month and it’s only been two weeks.”

Simon laughed. “And during those two weeks you’ve been hounding me, wanting to know why it’s taking so long.”

“You’re not answering my questions.”

He shook his head in amusement. “The truth was my sword, my dear. I reminded the pater familias that his son was a lecher, a thief, a scoundrel and an adulterer, and that he’d have to move to the Dead Sea to escape the ignominy of it all.”

“Adulterer?”

He looked momentarily shocked that she either didn’t know or at least suspect. “I should have left that word out.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She waved her gloved hand. “So it’s over?”

“It’s over. You’re free from the Drexels forever.”

For a moment she was afraid she was going to cry, but then she smiled, stood up and extended her hand across the desk. He jumped to his feet and came around to accept it.

“Now you can get on with your life. A better life.”

“Thank you so much, Simon. Father always valued you as a friend and as a professional colleague. Now I must tell mother. She’ll be relieved.”

“And please give her my regards.”

On returning home she wrote a long letter, explained that the situation had been resolved and asked when her mother would be returning to Charleston, offering—with a moment’s hesitation—to travel there to accompany her back. Since the postal service was still very unreliable, she had her coachman take it to the stage depot to be dispatched on the next coach to Columbia

Would Buck be willing to make the trip with her? She must get in touch with him and give him the good news as well. She pe

How long would it take for him to respond? Was he even in town? Perhaps he’d already found a location for his medical practice here in Charleston, or maybe he’d found a better opportunity somewhere else. She would just have to wait for his answer.

In the meantime, rather than return to the big empty house that had once felt so much like home, but which now only echoed with memories, she decided a new wardrobe was appropriate. Since there were no longer any dress shops in business, she spent the next three hours rummaging through dressers and trunks of old clothing, then summoned a seamstress to alter them to conform with current fashions. Not one of them was black.

By late afternoon, she was buoyant but fatigued. Tomorrow her new life would begin, no longer in mourning. She was removing the pin from a wide-brimmed hat when the doorbell rang. Curious who could be calling at that hour, she stood by while the butler answered it.

The sound of his voice made her heart stop.

Buck.

Chapter TWENTY-ONE

“Tell me what’s happened,” he said more sharply than he’d intended.

“Our legal matters have been resolved. In our favor. I’m free, Buck. I’m no longer in mourning. I can get on with the rest of my life.”

Impulsively he pulled her into his arms. She fit perfectly there. The entrancing scent of her skin, the way her body molded to his conjured sensations and images that nearly drove him over the edge. He smothered her with kisses.

“Let’s celebrate. Can you . . . is it all right if . . . we have di

She laughed, a deep, throaty sound that threatened to reduce him to begging.

“We can go anywhere and eat together in front of the whole world.”

Nevertheless, before accompanying him out of the house, she insisted on bathing and changing clothes. He was shown into the drawing room to wait.

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” she assured him. “There’s brandy and port. If you want anything else, ring for Oscar and he’ll see to your comfort.”

He thanked her and wandered over to a bookcase by the side of the fireplace. He wasn’t totally surprised when a few minutes turned into nearly two hours. By then he’d read a goodly part of Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter. But the wait was worth it. Sarah had transformed from a lovely, charming but grieving widow to a radiant southern belle in an azure-blue and emerald-green hoop skirt with a low-cut bodice and a double strand of pearls that perfectly concealed the scar on her neck. Matching earrings rocked beneath the high elegant bouffant crown of silken black hair.