Read Online A Matter of Souls by Denise Lewis Patrick - Free Book Online

forgotten once and then carried out twice. But that meant when Beesi hugged once, she hugged twice …
    â€œGonna practice my trade!” Covie put a loving hand on Beesi’s shoulder. When his fingers brushed againsther sleeve and the detailed scar underneath, he held them there, directing his rising anger from the brand on her arm toward a hope, an anticipation, of his future fortune. Their future fortune.
    â€œLet’s go home, Beesi,” Covington said. He picked up his pace, and very shortly the two of them were standing in front of the neat and narrow two-story clapboard building, which stood at the edge of what used to be a cow pasture when the town was new.

    Elizear Markham had come from up East with his Quaker parents, who’d sold their farm and come South to try to preach the slavery out of the town. To make a living and set an example, Elizear Markham’s parents had started up a shoemaker’s business and hired—not bought—Covington’s uncle to learn the trade and work for them for pay.
    Uncle Jim had appreciated the value of his position, and over the years he bought his own freedom and that of his sister. Not long after she arrived from the plantation, Elizear’s father died and left him the business. Uncle Jim’s sister became Mrs. Markham’s friend, companion, and partner in turning the pasture into a rich and thriving garden, from which they grew and sold the most sought-after produce.
    When Elizear Markham’s mother dropped dead from a stroke in the middle of the cornstalks, Elizear and Covington’s mother consoled each other.
    Covington was born nine months later as his own mother died, and Uncle Jim lied that the baby was his own from a failed union. People chose to believe it, though the fair-skinned boy shared no physical features with his black-haired, square-shouldered uncle.

    Elizear Markham had left Covington what he rightly deserved.
    At the door, Covington slowly turned the key in the lock.
    â€œOh, Covie!” Beesi whispered, passing across the threshold before him, “Is it ours? Is it ours for true?”
    Before he answered her, Covington quietly closed the door, flipped the “Closed” sign and pulled the shade. Then he threw the hat off his head and whooped.
    â€œGod Almighty, Beesi, it is ours!” Covington never imagined feeling genuine excitement like this pumping through his veins. He could hardly stand still.
    â€œIt’s somethin’ wonderful,” Beesi murmured, stepping lightly around the small outer room of the shop. She touched the handsomely crafted man’s shoe on display in the window and then skipped around to the shining wood counter, which she’d polished but had never stood behind.
    â€œWonderful.” She smiled over at Covington.
    He let himself go and grinned back, grabbing Beesi’s hand to lead her into the rear workroom. He went tothe tall bureau in one corner and opened a drawer. Beesi watched quietly, intently.
    Covington drew a metal lockbox out and used another small key on his chain to open it. He slipped his precious papers from his suit pocket and laid them into the box, clicking it shut and locking it again.
    Before he’d lifted his hands, Beesi caressed his cheeks. She turned his face so that he looked squarely at her.
    â€œI got a powerful love for you, Covie,” she purred.

    The next morning, when Covington blinked his eyes open upstairs, Beesi wasn’t at his side. And he was sure it couldn’t be much past dawn, but he smelled coffee. Some cloth was tacked up at the two front windows, and his faded old work clothes were folded neatly near the wall, alongside his only suit. He got up from the pallet they’d made with a couple of quilts and stretched.
    A fine china pitcher and basin, each rimmed in blue, sat on a small table near the door. Covington at once recognized it as Beesi’s wedding present from his uncle.
    Beesi had already