Perpetual Care: A Novel

NAOMI TALBOT is haunted by shadows-shadows which confide in her, shadows which taunt her, shadows which remind her of what she has become. Popular fiction would label her-vampire. But she is more than what that word can define. She is a traveler between parallel worlds-the worlds of the living and the dead. Savannah Georgia is as much a part of Naomi's existence as is the stolen blood which flows through her veins. For it was in this sultry city, in the year 1923, that Naomi learned of love. A love that found its place in the hearts of two young women. . . a love that would transcend death itself. For Naomi, ESTHER BLANKENSHIP was the embodiment of that love. Cut off from the living at the birth of her sexual awakening, Naomi journeys through eight decades of self-discovery as she questions love, immortality, and God. In her quest to reunite herself with her lost Esther, she soon learns of the dark curse which has brought about her condition-a curse that was placed on her family by slaves long dead for sins which have not been forgotten. As Naomi seeks answers from the spirits of her dead ancestors, she is soon called upon to protect the last living member of her family from the darkness which haunts them. For Naomi, this will come at a great price. . .

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Perpetual CareA NovelBy Laura Beth CaldwellAuthorHouseCopyright © 2009 Laura Beth CaldwellAll right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4389-7662-4Chapter OneSavannah Georgia, 1923 The DeSoto Hotel was Savannah's finest with its round portico entrance overlooking Madison Square. It catered to the genteel of society, the upper echelon and on that particular afternoon I found the lavish pool deck to be my own personal oasis. For I was the invited guest of Miss Esther Blankenship, daughter of James Oliver Blankenship-General Manager of the DeSoto. Please don't mistake me, my family was by no means swamp trash, but we were as you might say, the bourgeoisie of Savannah. We lived in a modest home on E. Gaston Street near Forsyth Park and my father worked at the Cotton Exchange as a shipping manager. Before the war of northern aggression my family owned an indigo plantation out on Devil's Elbow in Beaufort County South Carolina. It was one of the largest producers of indigo in the region, until the slaves revolted and burned it to the ground. That's when my grandfather hung himself in the barn. But that of course is another tale, for the one at hand is obvious-how is it that I came to be that which I am? Popular fiction would label me vampire. But even as I speak the very word, it falls short. For what I have become is so much more than that word can define. What I have come to be is a traveler of sorts. A traveler between parallel worlds-worlds which exist simultaneously-the worlds of the living and the dead. I am a citizen of neither and a trespasser of both. But where was I? Oh yes, of course-the DeSoto and Esther Blankenship. Two years my senior and every bit more refined, she was grace, charm and intoxicating beauty and I was inebriated by her. We had little in common, really. She was the perfect Savannah debutante, and I was-well, not so perfect. Don't get me wrong, I was by no means short on looks, it's just that my looks didn't quite measure up to folks' ideas of what a young lady should look like. My mama did her best to correct my deficiency by filling my wardrobe with all manner of dresses and funny hats with silly ribbons that I never quite understood. Much to her dismay, my attire consisted mainly of an old pair of men's trousers that had belonged to my brother Mitchell. I held them up with a set of suspenders my father indulged me with. It drove my mother about as mad as a March hare to see me leave the house like that. But there I was none-the-less, sitting next to the prettiest girl in Savannah-and she didn't mind one bit. We were total opposites, Esther and I, and yet we were inseparable. It was a bond I was only beginning to understand. "Do you think I resemble Greta Garbo or Bessie Love?" Esther asked as she rubbed lotion on her long, fair arms. "You look more like Mary Pickford to me." "Mary Pickford? Good God, she's far too innocent for me!" She laughed, lighting another cigarette. "Would you like a towel Miss Blankenship?" A clumsy pool boy approached us. "That would be very kind of you Richard." Esther flirted as the young man offered her a fresh towel before returning to his duty of preparing the pool for the weekend guests. "He wants you, you know." "Don't be silly, he's just a boy. They have hormones they just can't control." I have hormones too. I thought. The afternoon sun danced off Esther's short blonde hair, her finger waves glistening like real waves in the ocean. Her skin was perfect like a porcelain doll and her shape was achingly beautiful. "I see you watching me." Esther teased, not looking up from her copy of Vogue. I just smiled and closed my eyes, Esther's form holding vivid in my mind. "Why don't we go to that picture tonight?" Esther looked at me over her sun shades. The Lucas Theatre was playing one of Mary Pickford's new films Little Lord Fauntleroy. "We'll see if I look like her after all." * * * It was all I could do to refrain myself from reaching over and taking Esther's hand during the picture. Each time her fingers brushed against mine as she reached for the popcorn sack it sent a thrill through me that words cannot describe. I really can't tell you much about the picture as I was so engulfed in the presence of Esther, in the smell of her hair, in the brush of her fingertips. There was a couple two rows in front of us who had no intention whatsoever of seeing the picture. Most of the other folks around us became a bit annoyed with their spectacle, but Esther found it amusing. She giggled at the sounds they made, mocking them by kissing her arm. I found it terribly awkward and was relieved when an usher escorted them out. "Still think I look like her?" Esther asked as we left the theater. "You're far prettier." "Well good of you to say so darling!" Esther wrapped her arm around mine and we headed down Abercorn Street towards my house. She insisted on accompanying me home as I was, as she called it-still a child. I resented the remark. I didn't want her to think of me that way. I wanted her to see me as I saw her-as a woman. "My father is planning a fourth of July picnic out on Tybee Island. Do you think your parents would let you come along?" She asked as we turned the corner onto E. Gaston Street. "I don't see why not." "Good, bring your bathing costume and we'll hit the waves together!" Esther held my hand in hers for what felt like an eternity. And then it happened. She leaned in and softly kissed me. Her lips were full and tasted salty sweet from the popcorn. "I'll see you tomorrow." She smiled. I just stood there, my lips numb, watching her walk out of sight. "It's far too dangerous for two young girls to be strolling about unaccompanied after dark." My mother was not one to mince words. She stood on the porch above peering down at me. I wondered how long she had been standing there. "What have the two of you been up to this evening?" "Nothing Mama-just a picture show." "Doesn't that girl have a suitor to take her about to the pictures? What likes does she have of you?" She gave me a suspicious look over before going back inside. Like I said, we weren't swamp trash, but she sure had a way of making me feel like it. "We're friends Mama." I brushed past her and headed up to my room where I collapsed on the bed, my lips still tingling from Esther's kiss. "How was the picture?" My father's voice was warm and compassionate in spite of the gin he had bootlegged down on the docks. He stood in the doorway of my room and I remember feeling sorry for him in that moment. He was a gentle man grieved by a contemptuous wife who was suspicious of everything. "It was fine Papa. Esther and her family are going to Tybee for the fourth. Would it be all right if I went along?" "It's fine by me. Have you asked your mother?" The look on my face told him that I had no intention of asking her. "Enjoy yourself sweet pea." He gave me a reassuring grin. "Be sure to give my regards to Mr. Blankenship." Papa was no more in the same class as James Blankenship as I was in Esther's but the way I see it, Papa had his own dreams of being part of Savannah society. I think in his own way he believed that he was somehow on the same level as folks like the Blankenships, being as his father had owned a plantation back in the day. But you see, in Savannah that doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is who you are today. Money lost is money forgotten. Papa just couldn't bring himself to forget, that's all. Chapter Two Though the air was cool, sleep would not come to me that night. I tossed about hour after hour before finally rising. I slipped on my trousers and quietly snuck out my bedroom window and down the garden lattice to the alley below. I cut through Calhoun and Lafayette Squares crossing over to Drayton Street until I came to the Blankenship home on Oglethorpe Avenue. All was silent except for the constant hum of the street lights and the occasional growl of a stray tom cat. Esther's bedroom window was closed and her curtains drawn so I took a handful of small pebbles and tossed them up against the glass. When she didn't respond I did it again and this time I could see the pale light of a lamp in the window. "Naomi? What on earth are you doing down there?" She whispered. I motioned for her to come down. She disappeared for a moment to change out of her bed clothes before clumsily climbing down the rose lattice. "Are you crazy ...?" She started to ask when I took her face in my hands and kissed her powerfully on the lips. Then I spoke the words without thought or hesitation ... "I love you." "Are you out of your mind Naomi Talbot?" "Come on." I took her hand and we headed down Oglethorpe. "Where are we going? This is crazy-what if someone sees us?" "Don't worry I just want to be alone with you for awhile." I whispered as we passed through the gates and into the shadows of Colonial Cemetery where we found a park bench well hidden from the light. "I had to see you again tonight." I whispered as we sat alone in the shadows, the grey tombstones silhouetted against the darkness. "I just had to tell you that I love you." "I know." Esther brushed a strand of moist hair from my eyes before leaning back to get a good look at me. "You and those trousers Naomi Talbot!" She laughed. "I'm gonna call you Little Lord Fauntleroy from now on!" She teased. "Don't you dare!" I pulled her close and kissed her again. All I could think of was kissing her. The smell of her hair was intoxicating. Our kisses grew deeper as soon I felt her tongue part my lips. This is really happening. I thought. "This is crazy." Esther sat up and looked about the cemetery. "I must be dreaming." "It's no dream-we're really here." I gently kissed her hand, holding it against my cheek. "And I really love you." "You keep saying that, but do you realize what you are saying?" She pulled away. "We can't be here-we can't be doing this-if we're caught ..." "I know exactly what I'm saying and exactly how I feel." I interrupted, hurt by her sudden coolness. "It can't be Naomi. What would our parents say if they found out?" What would people think?" "I don't care." "Well I do. You're young Naomi, too young to understand." I could see the tears glistening in her eyes as we sat in silence holding each other's hand. I was afraid to speak for fear she would reject my words, so I merely cherished the closeness we shared beneath the moss- draped oaks of the cemetery. I knew not at that time what lurked in those shadows, behind those graves and that the tender words we spoke were not in secret. Later I would meet their audience and realize that in the darkest of places and in the stillest of moments we are surrounded by others who stand but a parallel world away. As I crossed through Lafayette Square on my way home in those early hours I heard a familiar voice in the shadows just ahead of me. As I drew closer it became more distinct until I finally recognized the image of my father, but perhaps more disturbing was the voice of the woman who accompanied him. I recognized her accent to be that of a Geechee. And though her thick voice reflected her African ancestry I could glimpse in the pale light that her skin was a light mulatto. The sultry way in which she moved first caused me to believe she was a prostitute. But then my father kissed her and it wasn't the type of kiss you would pay for. He kissed her with passion and sincerity, the way I had kissed Esther. And then he left her standing in the half-light of the square and made his way down Abercorn. I was careful not to follow him too close for fear he would spot me, but I was anxious to make it home before he noticed me missing. I turned the corner and followed a parallel path beating him just by minutes. "What are you doing?" A small voice greeted me as I crawled back into my bedroom window. My little brother Willie stood at the bedroom door. "It's okay Willie-Billy. I thought I heard something, that's all. Go back to bed now." I turned him in the direction of his room and kissed him on the top of his head. Chapter Three It was well after ten o'clock the next morning when Mama finally woke me. "You're not going to sleep all day, now up with you." She insisted as she drew open the curtains. "You're coming with me this morning. We're picking out a gown for the cotillion." Mama was an incessant socialite. She attended every social event on the calendar including the upcoming Daughters of Society Ball being held at the DeSoto. There, for gawking eyes, Savannah's finest young women would be paraded about like livestock in front of the crme de society. Now we were far from the crme but Mama forced my father to pull some strings with his boss whose wife chaired the committee. Mama so fervently pointed out that time was slipping away on my chances of finding a reputable husband. "After all, I met your father at a cotillion. It is only proper for a young woman of your standing to attend." What standing? I wondered. Just last night I was swamp trash. I wanted nothing to do with it until I heard that Esther was attending again that year. "That friend of yours Esther Blankenship will be attending again. The good Lord knows time is running out for her-she is nearly twenty years old and still no husband. I just don't understand young women these days. They think they are so independent with their short hair and cigarettes and those deviant short skirts. Before you know it they will be showing off their knees for the world to see. Such decadence is unbecoming of a fine southern lady." She rambled. My thoughts turned to Esther and the kisses we shared in the cemetery. My body was warm all over as I imagined Esther's tongue once again ... "Your father will burn these if he knows what's good for him." Mama threw my trousers in the waste basket. "I've had enough of this foolishness young lady. Stay out of your brother's things-hear?" Mama was obsessed with the death of my older brother Mitchell. He had been killed five years earlier in France. Mama had kept his bedroom as a shrine of sorts, not permitting Willie or I to enter. Willie had never known his brother. He was just six months old when Mitchell was killed. After his death, Mama grew more and more suspicious and cold. She became obsessed with the supernatural and with clairvoyants. She even held sances in our parlor in an attempt to reach Mitchell. Now Papa on the other hand turned his grief towards the bottle. We may have been smack in the middle of prohibition but still, night after night he would secretly indulge in a bottle of scotch or gin or whatever else he had stashed out in the carriage house. I tell you, Savannah has never been dry. Between Mama's compulsion and Papa's indulging, the family was slowly being torn apart. Our parent's marriage had become one of strictly image and the very minimum of attention was paid to Willie or I. Willie bore the true brunt of it all, for he arrived just in time for the collapse. Never did he know the loving embrace of a mother or father. The affection he received came from what I could give him. I adored him, coddled him-cherished him as though he were my own child. Willie and I shared a bond that spoke of survival in a family absent of love. My father did his best, when he was sober enough to remember he had children. That's why I wasn't surprised later that afternoon to find those old trousers neatly folded on my bed. * * * Nothing in the boutique on Whitaker Street suited me. I just didn't see myself dressed in a taffeta gown and silk stockings being paraded about by an over-dressed, over-hormoned school boy in a tuxedo as a good time. I thought of Esther, what she would wear, how beautiful she would be. Who would be her escort? That damn Richard from the hotel? No of course not, he was just a pool boy. Who then? Who would escort my beloved? I dreamed it would be me. I dreamed of being dressed in a fine gentleman's tuxedo with top hat and white gloves, gently guiding Esther with my hand about her waist. Gently leading her in a waltz and then kissing her ... "Stop your silly day dreaming. Now try this on ... this is the final one, like it or not you are wearing it." Mama's voice slapped me back into realty and back into another taffeta gown. I just held my tongue, for there's one thing every southern girl knows-you never cross your mama. (Continues...) Excerpted from Perpetual Careby Laura Beth Caldwell Copyright © 2009 by Laura Beth Caldwell . Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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