Midnight Kiss

By Haley Whitehall

Race prejudice in the old South threatens to keep them apart, but sometimes love is black and white.

Unjustly accused of stealing, nanny April Windmire is turned out on the streets without pay or a reference. With no place to go and no friends, she stows away on the Mississippi steamer, the Queen Bee. Her hopes to remain undetected until they dock in St. Louis are dashed when a handsome officer discovers her hiding. Instead of turning her in, he takes her to his private quarters to ensure her safety. There she fights her growing attraction to a man she cannot have.

Matt Seever's wife died four years ago, leaving him alone with two small mulatto children. He works on the steamer to provide for them, but his job as an officer on the Queen Bee isn’t family friendly. He knows he needs a new wife, but no southern white woman will marry him. When April lands in his lap, his prayers are answered. Or are they? April’s not the trusting type and racial prejudice runs deep in post-Civil War Missouri. Just when Matt convinces April he loves her, his new family becomes a target and there’s no backing down from this fight.

Together, April and Matt must brave heinous race prejudice. Will it tear them apart or will they find an enduring love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Haley Whitehall
• Release date: Apr 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310946950

Haley Whitehall

Haley was telling stories before she could write. When she was four, she woke her parents up to write down her burning ideas. Growing up on John Wayne movies and the Little House on the Prairie books, she has always loved historical fiction. For ten years Haley developed her writing craft and voice by studying authors such as Avi, Ann Rinaldi, and Mark Twain to name a few. She received her B.A in history through Central Washington University. During all her research, her soul was pulled deeper in the 19th century U.S. Using her words to transport people back in time continues to give her a thrill. Sometimes she wishes she could escape the present and float down the Mississippi River on a raft. But then again, just writing another historical fiction novel is a much safer journey. You can visit her at HaleyWhitehall.com

Book preview

Prologue

August 1869

On board the Queen Bee

MATT OPENED THE letter the ship’s clerk handed him. Recognizing George’s blocky handwriting, his pulse quickened, excited to receive word about his children. It pained him to work on the water and not see his son and daughter often. Lately he’d been living letter to letter. He blinked at the words and his chest constricted.

Dear Mr. Seever,

Allison had a scare recently. Mrs. Brown has ordered her confined to bed for fear too much movement will cause her to lose the baby. Your brother, Frederick, Allison, Mrs. Brown, and I are all helping to take care of your children. I don’t want you to worry, but please come home as soon as you can. Seth and Hannah miss you terribly.

Sincerely,

George

Matt folded the letter and stuffed it in his coat pocket. That wasn’t the news he’d been expecting. He drew a deep breath, inhaling the fishy scent of the Mississippi River. Anxiety flooded his veins and he put his palm over his eyes. Since Caroline died soon after the war his life had been on a downhill slide. His joy of peacetime had been tempered by an intense mourning. While other southerners were in mourning for their lost loved ones and the sorry state of the south, he’d blended in just fine. Few people knew he’d fought for the Union. With temperatures still running high, he seldom volunteered such information. None of the southern belles wanted to court a Yankee.

Maybe he’d struggle as a single father for the rest of his life. It had been four years since Caroline’s death, and just now he felt ready to move on—for the children. He’d been hunting for a wife for four months with no luck. He’d searched on the ship, ashore in the waterfront towns along his run, and met the women his friends set him up with. Once he mentioned his mulatto children any woman who seemed interested turned and ran the other way. Now he was desperate.

If he couldn’t find a mother for his children he’d have to settle for a nanny. He couldn’t burden his friends to take care of his children any longer.

Something wrong? the captain asked, walking over to him.

No, sir, Matt said quickly.

The captain, a stout man with graying hair, arched an eyebrow. Are you sure?

Matt blew out a puff of air. None of the crew on the Queen Bee knew he had children. He wasn’t ready to explain what some would deem a scandalous past.

The captain tipped his head toward the upper deck. Come to the pilothouse. I’ll order us a couple drinks.

The other officers might want one, too.

The captain grunted. I’ll buy a round for all of us.

Matt nodded. That sounded good. His shift had ended a half hour ago. Maybe a drink would rid him of the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and the acrid taste in his mouth. He’d have to tell the captain this would be his last run on the steamer. He’d move back to his house in St. Louis and work at the warehouse with his brother. A paper pusher. He’d rather find a job where he wasn’t stuck in a desk chair in a room that received as much light as a jail cell, but he’d make the sacrifice for his children.

Seth and Hannah needed him as badly as they needed a mother. Since finding a wife seemed beyond his capabilities, the least he could do was provide them with a father.

Chapter 1

Nashville, Tennessee

LEAVE THIS HOUSE immediately! Mrs. Clement shouted, her face turning as red as her day dress. You’re lucky I’m not pressing charges.

April swallowed, suddenly speechless. The woman’s sharp glare could cut glass. I-I didn’t steal any money, ma’am.

Mrs. Clement folded her arms across her chest. That’s what they all say.

She had cleaned Mrs. Clement’s bedroom. A five dollar bill had rested on top of the dresser, but she hadn’t taken it. The baby had started crying and she’d hurried into the nursery to rock him back to sleep. The fact Mrs. Clement hadn’t found the money on her person only infuriated the woman more instead of exonerating April’s guilt.

I swear, ma’am. I would never steal.

Mrs. Clement pointed out the door. Out. Now!

April’s bottom lip trembled and her soft voice cracked. Can I gather my things first, ma’am? She willed herself not to cry. She’d been let go before, but never accused of stealing. Would she be able to get another job?

Mrs. Clement huffed. Fine. But I’m coming with you. I don’t trust you not to take anything else on your way out.

With Mrs. Clement giving her the eye, April climbed the stairs to her small servant’s quarters in the attic. She took off her white apron and put on her coat and bonnet. Folding her extra clothes, including her apron, she placed them in a gunnysack which served as her valise, and then added her few personal belongings on top. Not much to call her own, but more than some.

Holding her head high, her back so stiff her muscles ached, she descended the stairs. As soon as she stepped outside Mrs. Clement slammed the door shut. The bang made her heart stop and she heard a click. The crazed woman had locked the door. Did she think she might rush in and steal something else?

April shook her head, a trickle of tears warming a path across her nose. She started walking—where to she didn’t know. She’d been a housekeeper and a nanny all her life and knew no other line of work. Usually she lived with her employer. Her mind kept circling back to her desperate need for a job. If she found a better paying job then she could afford room and board at a boardinghouse. Except with Mrs. Clement’s big mouth soon all of Nashville would think she was a thief. She shuddered. Getting a job around here would be near impossible.

Zorna, the cook, ran outside, waving her arms for her to stop. April paused, turning toward the larger woman. Zorna gave her a big hug. I’m sorry, honey, she whispered in her ear. Be strong.

I will.

Zorna pulled her arms away and wiped a tear off April’s cheek. People see what they want to see.

And people could color other people’s perceptions. Mrs. Clement never liked me.

Mmm-hmm. Woman grew bitter during the war. Couldn’t stand to be around the baby, but she didn’t like you spending time with the baby and her husband.

April gasped. This was news to her. Nothing happened. I merely stayed in the nursery in case the baby needed me. And she couldn’t expect her husband to ignore the child just because she did.

After developing feelings for Master Bowden she’d vowed never to repeat that mistake. It had ended badly, and she’d been sold to the Windmires. After the war she wanted to leave her slave past behind and hired on with the Clements. She needed this job. It provided her a fresh start, independence; she would never have done anything foolish to jeopardize her position. April shook her head. I didn’t do anything improper.

I know that. The woman expelled a lungful of air. She’s cross with all the help. There is no pleasing her. Zorna shrugged. If I burn another batch of cookies I’m sure I’ll be the next to be shown the door.

April frowned. It was wrong of Mrs. Clement to expect Zorna to see all the kitchen duties by herself. Normally, she’d have assistants, but since the woman now had to pay for her help she’d skimped on the servants.

I don’t know what to do. Being fired for burning cookies wouldn’t deter Zorna from attaining another position, but stealing? She needed a miracle.

At the scent of impropriety or wrongdoing and we can find ourselves turned out. Of course, we can also get turned out for no fault of our own, too. Life isn’t fair, honey.

April bobbed her head. She knew that all too well.

Zorna squeezed her arm, offering her more encouragement. You’ll get another job. You’re a good woman, and you’re excellent with children. The older woman’s lips smiled, but her eyes reminded sad. I will miss you, you’ve been like a daughter to me, but maybe this is your opportunity.

Opportunity? It seemed more like a disaster.

You’re not getting a day younger. If you want to have a family this is your chance.

Family? After taking care of other people’s children all her life, she hadn’t had time to think about having her own. The buried feminine longing for her own brood rose to the surface. When God closes a door he opens a window.

Thank you, Zorna. I’ll always remember you.

Starting a family would mean finding a husband and another job. Unless her husband had a good enough job to support all of them. She sighed. It was too much to ask for. She’d barely managed looking out for herself.

She’d continue taking care of herself the same as she had for years—except now Mrs. Clement put a wrinkle in her plans. Maybe if she went to a different town, a place where no one knew her, she’d have a chance at finding employment. Rumors couldn’t travel all the way down the river could they? Although without recommendations, it would truly have to be a trusting soul.

April’s feet carried her to the waterfront, her head too full with worry to think about directions. The air stayed cooler there, a small blessing in the summer heat. The sunlight weakened, but even in the dead of night the temperature remained sweltering hot. She wiped the beads of sweat off her forehead with the back of her arm. Seeing all those steamboats lined up along the dock made her heart skip. If only she could afford passage.

She sighed. She didn’t have any money to her name. She hadn’t been fool enough to ask Mrs. Clement for the month’s wages she was due. That would be asking to be hauled into court and with strong coffee-colored skin she knew she’d lose. Heck, if Mrs. Clement called the sky green and she argued the sky was blue she’d still lose. The world worked that way—or at least in the South.

As her mama had said you only live once and just had to make the best of life.

A sour taste spread in her mouth and after she swallowed her stomach grew uneasy. Her dire circumstances began to dawn on her. She had no place to stay, no food, no friends, no family, and no hope for the future.

Being the nanny on the Windmire Plantation would sure be better than living on the street. She’d heard her master and the missus had returned to what was left of their estate. Likely they’d welcome her back for a pittance. She shut her eyes tight and pushed the thought away, scolding herself for the moment of weakness. Only a person out of their head would ask for slavery. Her mama was rolling over in her grave at such an idea.

Repositioning the gunnysack on her shoulder, April continued to walk. She eyed each steamboat with longing. They seemed to call out to her, beckon her on board to start a new future. But how?

If she was a man she’d be able to work for her passage hauling firewood. If she had a husband he might be able to work for the both of them, but being alone … her only chance was stowing away.

She lingered at the docks, staying in the shadows watching the men work. All the steamboats were docked for the night. Most of the workers would sleep. With any luck she could sneak on board. She glanced up at the first stars peeking in the sky.

I need a little help here, she whispered.

Picking out the prettiest of the steamboats newly whitewashed with red railings and gold lettering along the side, she sat on the bank close by, hands in her lap. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. She heard male voices, but she didn’t care to listen to their conversation. She just wanted time to pass quickly. Still wearing the black uniform dress Mrs. Clement required, she prayed she’d blend in to the darkness. Mosquitoes landed on her face and she shooed them away. The pests didn’t find her invisible. Would the mate on watch notice?

After sitting on the bank several hours all noise ceased except for the rhythmic sloshing of the river. Even the birds had gone to sleep. She stood, dusted off the backside of her dress, and took a deep breath. In front of her loomed the biggest steamboat of the line. It made sense it would be the prettiest. Hopefully it would have more places for her to hide than its smaller counterparts.

Afraid to breathe, she tiptoed onboard. As soon as she stood on the deck she exhaled. She scanned the deck, seeing many colored men sleeping next to crates and cotton bales. Soft snores reached her ears reminding her of her own fatigue. She yawned and covered her mouth with her hand. Could she just find a place to sleep and pretend to be a passenger? How much attention did they pay to colored people?

She chewed on her bottom lip, and decided she couldn’t chance it. Curling into a ball behind some crates seemed the best option. She headed toward a stack of cargo when a strong hand gripped her arm.

She spun around and found herself face-to-face with a tall white man. Her pulse raced and all the blood drained to her toes.

Where do you think you’re going, girl?

She opened her mouth then closed it again. The firm grip on her arm held her still but didn’t hurt.

Thinking about stowing away?

She swallowed hard. Words would not make her situation any better.

And where did you think you’d hide? His tone held more curiosity than irritation.

She felt compelled to answer him. If she remained mute he might lose his temper. Behind those crates, sir, she said in a weak voice.

He let go of her arm and grunted. Those crates would have been unloaded at the next stop. Where are you headed?

She blinked. He didn’t seem upset, he seemed—concerned. St. Louis, sir.

If you were willing to board a steamboat in the middle of the night I reckon you’re desperate to leave, huh? He motioned with his head toward the stairs. I have a better place for you to hide.

He’s going to hide me? Her gratitude overrode her fear. Heart drumming her thanks, she followed him up two flights of stairs to the third deck. He strode ahead of her, passing several rooms before he stopped and unlocked a door. You’re safe here.

Where was here? Didn’t he have more questions for her? Why was he so willing to help?

He held the door open and offered her a cordial smile as if to tell her not to be afraid.

She brushed past him, feeling the heat of his body and inhaling his masculine musk scented with sweat and smoke, not all together displeasing. The dark room seemed to swallow up her slender body.

I’ll light a lamp. He ambled past her and over to the kerosene lamp on the nightstand. Soon a warm glow cast across the room.

April blinked at the small bed. A private room? She’d never dreamed of such luxurious accommodations.

Make yourself comfortable. He motioned to the washstand, the chamber pot, and the bed. I have to get back to work.

I … uh … thank you, sir.

He dipped his chin, giving a slight nod. You’re welcome. I should go. He turned and walked out the door, starting to close it behind him.

Wait, she called.

He poked his head in. Yes?

Will anyone else come in the room? I mean…

No, ma’am. No one will disturb you. As long as you stay here you’re safe.

Her cheeks heated and she wished the lamp was out to cloak her embarrassment.

Thank you, sir.

‘Sir’ is rather formal He gave a hint of a smile. You may call me Mr. Seever.

Should she tell him her name? That might seem forward. She kept silent.

He shut the door and April exhaled. She knew she should be grateful; she should drop to her knees and thank the Lord he hadn’t alerted the law and had her hauled ashore. But did this gift come with strings attached? Maybe the steamboat had empty rooms. Would she have to leave if the steamer took on more passengers?

Eying the bed, the blankets called to her. She ignored the niggling warning to be careful. She stripped down to her chemise and sat on the mattress, digging into her gunnysack for her nightgown. The mattress dipped under her weight, high class compared to her tick in Mrs. Clement’s attic. Taking advantage, she’d get a good night’s sleep and be able to bear up under her burdens tomorrow.

Her eyelids grew heavier and she drifted toward dreamland with a soft sigh. She’d face the consequences in the morning.

Chapter 2

MATT FINISHED HIS watch, and headed to the pilothouse instead of going to his room. A young colored woman currently slept in his bed. Even with her hair pinned back in a tight bun, he’d noticed her beauty. Her severe hairstyle accentuated her high cheekbones and helped draw attention to her burnt umber eyes. When she pursed her lips together they were near irresistible.

Fear had rolled off her in waves. The moment he caught her on the ship he wanted to reel her to him for a comforting embrace. He couldn’t hold her out in the open, even if she would have been willing. Her polite but distant manner indicated she clearly wasn’t. Damn it. Forming a friendship had never been so important to him. He couldn’t expect her to warm up to him immediately.