Her Cherokee Groom

“Yes, it does. You mustn’t do that.” She sobered even more and glanced toward the house. “There is more to tell. Secretary Eaton was very angry when he came to get me out of jail. He admitted some terrifying things.”

“What things?”

“For one, he’s not going to keep Johnny as a son, the way you thought. He’ll only let him stay until the treaties with your tribe are finalized in some way. I don’t know the whole story but I fear there will be nothing of benefit to the Cherokees when all is said and done.”

“As many of us have suspected,” Charles murmured. “Was there anything else? Any details you can give me?”

“Only that President Jackson is not to be fully trusted.”

“What do you want to do now?” Charles asked, unsure of anything other than his concern for the young woman.

Annabelle shook her head and sighed. “I wish I knew. I had thought to escape unhappiness by being sent off to boarding school but with Margaret having such a strong influence on my future, I do not see that happening. Not even if we manage to prove our innocence.”

“Then rethink everything. Start from the beginning. Let yourself dream.”

“What possible good can that do?”

When she lowered her head in despair, Charles lifted it with one finger under her chin. Tears were trickling down her cheeks and he brushed them away with a gentle touch. “Don’t give up.”

“But...I have no hope.”

He placed a light kiss on her forehead as he said, “You have me.”

“For how long?” she asked in a shuddering whisper.

Because he had no idea when he would have to follow the rest of his party back to Georgia, he didn’t answer.

* * *

Given a choice, Annabelle realized she would just as soon remain right where she was, in the company of Charles McDonald. That, of course, was unacceptable no matter how much she wished otherwise.

His suggestion about her dreams for the future made her pull herself together, step back and look up at him. “There was a time, when I was much younger, that I used to imagine returning to see my grandmother and finding the happiness I once enjoyed. The only way I will ever do that, of course, is when she and I are together again in Heaven.”

“You were living in Tennessee, you said?”

“Yes. Sometimes I recall little pieces of those times. They come and go like the flash of a firefly. When I try to remember details, I fail.”

“Did you bring any possessions with you when you came to live with the Eatons?”

She paused to think. “There was an old doll I named Rosie. And of course my clothes, although Myra insisted on having a new wardrobe made for me.”

“No papers? Letters? Anything like that?”

“No. I have asked. Why?”

“Because they might tell us who your people are.”

“I have no one. I told you.”

Charles’s brow knit. “No, you told me exactly what you have been told all your life. As you recently noted, that does not mean it’s the truth.”

“If John Eaton is hiding secrets, he will never reveal them at this point. He’s furious with me. I think he almost hopes I’ll be convicted and sent to prison so he won’t have to deal with me anymore.” She made a face. “At least Margaret does, and she has the ear of the president.”

“How is that possible? She can’t be that influential.”

“Yes, she can.” Annabelle was nodding. “Before she was widowed she ran a boardinghouse here in the city. John Eaton used to stay there. A lot of politicians did, including Andrew Jackson. Margaret is supposedly the reason why Emily Donelson, the president’s niece, moved out of the White House and he has no hostess in residence. Emily refused to entertain the Eatons.”

“The president sided with Margaret against his own family?”

“Yes. So you see my dilemma.”

“That I do.”

Annabelle cast a surreptitious glance at the rear door of the mansion. “I should go back in.”

“Why did you come out in the first place?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I have always preferred to be outside, and this morning I was particularly loath to encounter anyone other than Johnny.”

“The authorities are no longer bothering you?”

“Not at present. My freedom is legal, although that could change in a heartbeat.” The instant Annabelle mentioned hearts, she felt hers leap and placed her fingertips at the base of her throat. Such an intense fear of the unknown was new to her and gave her palpitations.

“If it would not cause tongues to wag, I would invite you and the boy to join me for a picnic lunch.”

“There is no way I dare ride out with you, sir, especially now,” Annabelle said. “Surely you understand.”

“Of course. It was a foolish notion.”

“I am sorry. Breaking bread together can be a good way to get better acquainted and I would like that. Diplomats share sumptuous dinners to help facilitate conversation.”

He eyed the house. “I hope you are not suggesting that I publicly darken the halls of Secretary Eaton’s home without being asked.”

“No, of course not. We will just have to hope a suitable opportunity arises someday. If your party was still in the city, perhaps they would be invited for lemonade and sweets again and we could spend a little time together without raising eyebrows.”

Johnny appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and ran up to them. Charles scowled at him. “Where have you been?”

“Exploring. I found another garden. Much better than here.” He started to tug on his uncle’s hand. “Come see.”

Giving Annabelle a questioning glance he resisted. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

“I think so. I’m told an old retainer and his wife used to live in an apartment of sorts at the rear of the carriage house. When the Eatons moved in, they filled it with stored possessions. The yard is not much to look at but you can tell they enjoyed their privacy.”

“Privacy? Can it be seen from the street?”

Annabelle shook her head. “I don’t think so. I really didn’t pay much attention when I first looked.”

He bowed slightly and swept an arm in the direction the boy was going. “After you.”