Love in Three-Quarter Time by Dina Sleiman Page A

views on the intelligence of Negroes. Robbie hadn’t given her a chance.
    Then the truth struck her with the force of a blow to the head. The first time she discussed slavery with Robbie was after her slaves had run away, after Sissy had betrayed her. She’d been so angry. So hurt. Devastated. Surely Robbie realized.
    But because they’d never talked about it before, perhaps he had not.
    Next she recalled the hatred she had spewed toward the abolitionist cause. Hatred she used to protect herself from facing the truth at the time. Her slaves were gone. Her father dead—and it was all Constance’s fault, hers and Sissy’s.
    She must speak to Robbie, and soon. She would still never forgive him for deserting her. He had broken her heart and never even attempted to explain. But at least she understood his reasoning now. They had misjudged one another, and the time had arrived to straighten matters.

CHAPTER 9
    Patience dashed all the way home from the postal office. The Cavendish reputation could hardly suffer damage at this point from such a minor offense. She clamored up the front steps and crashed through the door, panting and out of breath. “It’s come!” She held up the letter in triumph.
    Felicity sprang from the couch in the parlor and snatched it from her hand. Her weeks of crying turned to squeals of glee. Tearing it open she said, “Thank goodness, for I could not wait another day.”
    She pulled out the paper with trembling hands. “What is this?” Felicity unfolded it and turned it front and back. “She’s barely written a word.”
    Patience grabbed it from Felicity. “She must have said something.”
    â€œRead it,” the normally reticent Felicity demanded as Mother and Grammy made their way to the small entry room.
    Mother gripped tight to the woodwork. “Aye, dear, read it aloud.”
    Patience glanced over the words and released a sigh. “
I’ve arrived safely. Terribly busy. More to come. Love and miss you all, Constance.”
    â€œOh! The nerve,” Felicity huffed, clenching her fists. “I spent two weeks crying, and she says,
‘I’ve arrived safely. Terribly busy.’
We deserve better than that. Why, I never!” With that she stormed up to her room. Felicity always sought solitude when overwhelmed.
    â€œCan’t believe I got me old bones up out t’ rocker for nowt.” Grammy headed to the kitchen.
    â€œAt least she’s safe,” Mother whispered. “But why so terse? That’s not like Constance at all.”
    Patience knew better. The old Gingersnap held nothing back. But Constance grew quite reticent when matters went amiss. Perhaps she did not secure the job. Perhaps she did not like the Beaumonts. Or perhaps she had run into Robbie after all.
    â€œWhat do you suppose it means?” Mother asked.
    â€œI suppose it means you should pray harder, Mother.”
    â€œAye, I believe we all should.”
    Mother returned to her armchair and her sewing.
    Patience moved out to the porch, breathing in the fresh spring air. Some days she missed country life. But she would not waste prayers on Constance. That remained Mother’s arena, for whatever good it might do.
    She herself was not convinced that God existed. As she surveyed the clear blue sky, she was reminded that one could not prove his existence beyond a reasonable doubt. And if indeed he did exist, then she would fall on the side of the deists. If God created the world, he’d long since left them to their own devices. God had never been there for her before. Why would he begin now?
    No, Patience had no one to depend on but herself. She would give Constance one last chance. Patience wasn’t a child anymore, and she’d proven her skill at business. If need be, she’d pull this family out of the ruins. Her older sister might fancy herself the head of this household, but Patience had proven a resourceful