Jezebel: The Prequel: Jezebel Series, #4

Prologue

Anabeth Grainger Holt ran her fingers through her fading chocolate brown curls. She eyed her reflection in the mirror, noting the dark circles under her gray eyes and the paleness of her honey complexion.

I’m dying, she thought.

She slowly made her way over to her bed and eased under the covers.

Her body, weakened by the disease raging throughout, ached with inexplicable pain. There were moments when she was consumed with fear, and times when she wished for an eternal escape from the agony, but deep down, Anabeth wasn’t ready to die. She still had to unburden herself of the past—a past filled with shame and regret. A place she tried not to visit in her dreams or thoughts. Her present was still filled with secrets she didn’t want known. Not because it would embarrass her, but rather because it would destroy her daughter.

As much as she wanted to blame Jessie Belle for all that happened, Anabeth could not. She had to accept her part in the way her daughter turned out.

A tear formed in her left eye as she thought of her daughter—her only living child. Anabeth had been pregnant three times, but only Jessie Belle survived. There was a time when she thought her daughter a special gift from God, but in other moments, Anabeth felt she was being punished.

She loved Jessie Belle true enough. However, she didn’t particularly like her.

Reflecting back with a touch of shame, Anabeth sighed softly. The woman her daughter had become was because of the things she'd done in life. She just hoped it wasn’t too late for Jessie Belle to change—to be a better person.

I pray that you will forgive me, Father God. I tried to raise that gal right, but she had a mind of her own. Same as me. I did what I thought was best at the time… turns out, I had never been more wrong in the choices I made.

A tear rolled down her cheek as Anabeth considered whether she could forgive herself. She brushed it away, then squeezed her eyes tightly closed and sought the sweet oblivion of sleep.

A soft knock on her bedroom door, interrupted her quest.

A woman in her late twenties peeked inside. Miss Anabeth, it’s time for your medicine.

She sat up, wincing at the pain. Thank you, Waverly.

Jessie Belle had arranged for her to have a live-in nurse since she was unable to care for her. Anabeth didn’t mind. Her grandson was a senior in high school and her daughter needed to be there for Holt and Traynor.

She felt in her spirit that she would soon be reunited with Elias. And the painful truth was that Anabeth wanted to die peacefully—something she couldn’t do with Jessie Bell around.

Chapter 1

October 1950

Mayville, Georgia

Elias Holt is one lucky man.

Anabeth smiled at the handsome man standing behind the counter of Hamilton’s Drug Store. She eyed Wilton Hamilton with an insatiable hunger. He carried with him an energy that seemed to pulse in the air around him, an energy that seductively drew her to him. With smooth skin the color of a new penny, a head full of tight curls cropped low and beautiful brown eyes that his glasses only seemed to emphasize--he was so handsome. I agree. But then he’s not afraid to go after what he wants.

Wilton glanced over his shoulder, to see if his father was standing within hearing distance before saying, You know how much I want to be with you. Besides, it was your dad who said I wasn’t the right man for you.

She saw the heart rending tenderness of his gaze and ignored the fluttering in her belly. He wants me to marry a man of God—all you had to do was stand up to him. You could’ve joined the church or something. He thinks you’re a heathen.

What about you? Wilton asked. When are you going to be honest with your parents? You say you want to be with me, but is that what you really want, Anabeth?

She stared with longing at him. I think you already know the answer to that, Wilton. She met his gaze. But what I want really doesn’t matter where my parents are concerned. What matters is that Elias is a good man and he’ll be a great husband. He’s being groomed to take over for my father. He's gonna be a preacher and I’ll be first lady. It’s a highly respectable position, you know.

I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that his family owns that huge farm just outside of town. I know your parents think we’re uppity blacks who look down our noses at farmers, but my family really isn’t like that.

Wilton, you know the real reason we can’t be together. You don’t go to church, which makes you no better than an atheist in my parent’s eyes. They say we’ll be unequally yoked. She didn’t add that his parents didn’t socialize with any of the farmers--just the town folk who owned businesses.

His voice dropped in volume. We love each other, Anabeth. You can’t tell me that there’s something wrong with that. Wilton's steady gaze bore into her in silent expectation.

She released a soft sigh. I’m getting married on Saturday.

I hope that he’ll make you happy.

He has the potential to be a very important man—one who will be respected and admired by the whole town.

And that’s important to you?

Anabeth nodded. Status is everything, Wilton. You of all people should know this—you’re a Hamilton. You would be a perfect match for me, but your family don’t believe in worshiping the Lord. It’s a shame really… the way the Lord has blessed y’all with this store, that big house and nice cars.

I don’t agree. My father worked hard for everything we have.

This is the reason I’m not marrying you this weekend, she replied with complacent buoyancy.

I noticed I didn’t get an invitation to the wedding.

My parents thought you’d be a distraction. My focus needs to be on the man who will be my husband.

Are you sure you don’t want to run away with me? We can leave tonight and elope.

She twirled a curly lock of hair around her finger. I must admit the idea is tempting, but I can’t embarrass my parents like that. Everything has already been arranged for this wedding. It’s going to be the event of the year.

Have a great life, Anabeth, Wilton responded thickly.

I intend to, she said, aching with an inner pain. I’m just sorry it can’t be with you.

Wilton’s father cleared his throat noisily from the pharmacy area.

I guess I’ve taken up enough of your time. Anabeth picked up the bag which held her purchases. I hope we can still be friends.

She left the store, her heart heavy. She had been in love with Wilton Hamilton from the moment they met in ninth grade. Her parents never felt he was good enough for her, even though his family was the most prominent family in the predominantly black town of Mayville.

As soon as Anabeth turned seventeen, her parents pushed her toward Elias, who had more than a passing interest in her. She knew he wanted her, and while he was nice looking—Anabeth didn’t share those same feelings. Her heart belonged to Wilton.

Two days later, Anabeth sat in her father’s pickup truck parked in front of a ranch-style home, staring out the passenger-side window. Although small, it was a charming house, painted a tan hue with rust-colored trim. A large tree in the front yard stood with leaves drenched in bright red and orange, the colors of autumn. Shoving a hand into the pocket of her lightweight sweater, Anabeth found the two hair bands inside and rubbed them together as she considered her next move.

She opened the truck door and got out.

It wasn’t the best location for what she had in mind, she told herself as she looked down Main Street. This house was on the busiest street in Mayville. It was the last of three houses that hadn’t been sold and torn down to make room for commercial property.

Coming here had been a risk. Anabeth knew that someone could recognize her father’s truck—the last thing she wanted was to be the subject of gossip and ugly rumors. In the past year, her family had experienced enough of that to last a lifetime.

Scents of robust sauce and spicy sausage filled the air from the pizza joint across the street. Anabeth’s stomach rumbled, but she refused to let something like hunger deter her plans.

She knocked on the door.

Wilton blinked in obvious surprise and there was a long, awkward silence. Anabeth! He looked outside, up and down the streets before asking, What are you doing here? You’re getting married tomorrow.

Her whole being seemed to be filled with wanting the one man she couldn't have. I know that I shouldn't be here but Wilton… I needed to see you.

What’s wrong?

Nothing, she responded. I just want one last moment with you.

Anabeth…

Let me come in, she said.

Peering at her intently, Wilton stepped aside to let Anabeth enter.

They stood in the living room gazing at one another. He looked at her as if he were photographing her with his eyes. Did something happen? he asked. Have you changed your mind about eloping?

She shook her head. We don’t have a lot of time, so I don’t want to spend it talking, Wilton.

But you’re a virgin.

"I want you to be my first. After tomorrow, I will spend the rest of my life with a man I don’t love. I want to know what it’s like to be with the one I do love."

He raised his brow in surprise. Are you sure about this?

Yes. I've never been more sure of anything.

But Elias will be expecting a virgin bride.

She kissed Wilton. You let me worry about him. Where’s your bedroom?

He took her by the hand and down a small hallway.

Anabeth wrapped her arms around him seconds after they entered the room.