"Are you sure you can spare the clothes, Molly?" Perry asked, wishing she could offer to buy them.
"Lord, child, I have no need for a dress with a waist as big around as my leg. Henry always said I was twice the woman his wife was. After seeing her clothes I'd have to agree." Molly laughed as she unlocked the back door to the main house.
Molly moved inside. "Folks 'round here used to call him Haunted Henry, him livin' in this big house all alone. He wouldn't even have servants after his wife died. In his youth he ran a slave ship. Folks say he was haunted by all those slaves that never survived the crossing with him. They say the evil he and his partner did drove his partner so crazy, he disappeared.
"I, myself, never called him Haunted Henry, though." Molly laughed. "I used to call him Horny Henry, but toward the end that, I'm afraid, was only a haunting memory too." A chuckle babbled from Molly.
Perry laughed as she stepped inside the main house. To her surprise the rooms were fully furnished. Cobwebs hung everywhere, draping the interior in gray. Many of the larger pieces of furniture were covered with white sheets, giving each room a ghostly appearance. The thick drapes and fine, imported rugs were rotting and layered with dust. This had once been a lovely home, before years of neglect had slowly smothered each room, robbing the wood of any glow and stealing strength from the colors.
Dusting webs away, Molly moved to the stairs. "I let my Herschel in here every now and then. He keeps the mice away.'' A dreamy look of longing crept into her face as she added, "You'll think I'm a fool, but I come in here sometimes and pretend I'm a grand lady waiting for a dinner guest to come."
Perry stated, matter-of-factly, "You are a grand lady, Molly."
Molly smiled down at her from the stairs. "Thank you, child. I'll treasure them words." Then she was gone in a whirl of dust.
Perry hurried to keep up with her as they climbed to the attic. For an old woman, Molly had a light step, and her arm was strong as she pulled the attic door open. As Perry stepped through the opening she was shocked to see trunks everywhere. Most of them looked as if they had sat unopened for years. The large attic was covered with a lifetime of clutter.
Moving to a trunk, she jerked up the lid. Within minutes both women were surrounded with dresses and laughter. Old Henry's wife must have loved spending money on clothes, Perry thought, for she had more than ten women needed.
They spent the morning trying on outfits and sewing. They found a few dresses in good shape. The styles were classic, so they needed little alteration.
By mid-afternoon, three clean dresses and a light coat hung in the kitchen in front of Perry. Freshly washed underclothes lay on the table with a pair of black boots that fit Perry as if they had been made for her. Even before the war her father never allowed more than one or two dresses each season. These were more clothes than Perry could ever remember seeing at one time.
Molly giggled like an old maid when the orchestra leader announces ladies' choice. "Let's try them out, honey. I wish we could've found some bright colors, but these will do. Put this green one on and go visit your handsome captain at the hospital." She lifted the dark forest-green dress and lay it across the bed. The rich folds were made to fit snugly at the waist and blouse wide at each elbow, reminding Perry of a dress a lady might have worn in the days of knights and dragons. They'd polished the row of gold buttons decorating the front and each sleeve.
An hour later Perry stared at herself in a small mirror that hung on the wall. The dark green velvet flattered her lovely ivory skin and brought out the brown in her eyes. Molly had arranged her tresses in braids encircling her head, a green velvet ribbon woven into her dark halo of hair. Perry could hardly believe her reflection. For the past few years she'd been too worried about money and crops to think of frills.
Molly beamed with pride. "I knew you was a lady the minute I got close to you. You look wonderful. As grand as any I've ever seen. I'll walk with you as far as the hospital doors. Wouldn't be proper for a lady like yourself to walk alone."
Perry nodded, laughing inwardly at Molly's sudden concern about respectability. She'd spent the past week in the unchaperoned company of men, but now, in a dress, she was a lady.
Before leaving, Perry slipped her knife into her dress pocket. She knew she would carry it until she was safe at home once more. Somehow, like Hunter's necklace, the knife had become a part of her.
The two women made an interesting sight as they strolled the twilight streets. Molly walked tall, proud to be with Perry, but at the hospital steps she refused to go any farther. She wanted to wait outside and walk Perry back home, but Perry convinced her that Abram would see her safely through the streets. She didn't know how long she would be visiting Hunter, and the streets were too wild tonight for Molly to wait by the hospital door.
Molly disappeared into the evening shadows as Perry walked alone from the front door to the main desk. Tonight the desk was cluttered with bottles and empty glasses from the morning's celebration. The same young orderly who'd been on duty last night stood politely as she neared. She noted he'd been drinking his share, and more. His smile was lopsided, and he kept trying to straighten it with a hand that refused to cooperate.
He halt bowed as he spoke. "May I help you, m'lady?"
Perry refused to offer even a small smile to the lad. "I wish to see Captain Hunter Kirkland."
''Yes, miss." The orderly hurried to usher her down the hall. "You'll have to excuse the mess. We've been celebrating the war's end, you know."
Perry said nothing, hoping to discourage conversation. She didn't want to talk to this half-drunk young man. He might be polite now, but she remembered his cruel words to Molly all too clearly. As she turned the corner she saw Abram leaving a room. He held his hat in one hand and several envelopes in the other.
"Thank you, orderly, I'll be fine from here." Perry dismissed him before moving closer to Abram. The huge black man stood still, studying Perry as she approached.
"Good evening, Abram," she whispered, watching his face for the reaction to her new clothes.
"Good evening, Miss Perry." Abram spoke as he kept an eye on the orderly, slowly moving out of earshot. The huge black man calmly slid the envelopes he carried into his breast pocket and patted them softly as if ensuring their safety.
With the orderly gone, a smile widened to cover Abram's face. "You're a beauty, Miss Perry, a real beauty," he said as he watched her turn before him. There was almost a fatherly pride in his statement. "I never would have dreamed you'd clean up so nice."
"I've met the nicest woman, Abram. She gave me all this," Perry answered, thinking he was referring to the clothes, "just so I could come to the hospital tonight."
"I wanted to bring you this tonight," Abram whispered as he pulled a pouch from his pants pocket. "There's enough money to get you by a few days until we can decide what to do."
"Oh, no! I can't accept money from you."
"Consider it a loan from Hunter. Just till you're back home." Abram wouldn't take no for an answer. He knew she would need some money, and he wasn't about to see her beg on the streets until he could keep his promise to her brother and get her safely home. "If Hunter were able, he'd say the same thing."
Concern filled her, washing her cheeks pale against her dark eyes. "How is Hunter?"
"He's been awake most of the day, talking with some top brass. I just left him sleeping," Abram answered.