Aging gray eyes turned serious. "It is I who am in your debt." He patted the papers beneath his jacket.

She opened her mouth to deny his statement, but his eyes encouraged her to remain silent.

Perry turned and climbed the steps to the double-doored entrance of her grandfather's house. She threaded her way across a large porch cluttered with wicker furniture. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw John and Mary Williams waiting at the buggy to ensure she was inside before leaving. In a few minutes Perry could stop asking herself whether or not her grandfather would welcome her. For soon she would know one way or the other.

Determination raised her chin as she lifted the knocker and rapped three times. The brass settled back against a door badly in need of painting.

Seconds passed. Footsteps somewhere within crept toward the door. She waited. Her journey had been so long, but these last few moments seemed endless.

The door creaked open, revealing an ancient servant in worn clothes. His thin black hand shielded his eyes from the bright sun, as though it had been years since he'd ventured into the bright light.

Deciding she'd be well into her thirties before he greeted her, Perry announced, "I'm Perry McLain. May I please speak with my grandfather?"

Shock registered on the old man's face as his eyes adjusted. He seemed like a figure carved in granite. She debated stepping around him, until he finally found his voice. "Yes, miz. We've been expecting you. Your maid, Noma, arrived more than a week ago."

He hesitated before continuing, "Miz, you sure is the image of your mama. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you was the ghost of Miz Allison." With this he stepped back to allow her to enter. "I'll get your bags. You'll find your grandfather in the study.'' A twitch of a smile cracked the dark stone of his face. "Study's the second door on your left."

"Thank you."

The old man moved onto the porch. "James, Miz. Ev-er'body just calls me Old James."

Perry followed him down the steps to say a last goodbye to the Williamses.

As she followed him back up the steps James lowered his head. "Your grandpa, he hasn't been feelin' too well, Miz Perry.'' His words were little more than a mumble as he struggled with her trunk.

Perry wondered if his statement was an apology or a warning. She hesitated a second before entering the cool darkness of the entry hall. All the shutters were drawn, giving the house a cavelike dampness. She moved slowly down the hall to her left, allowing herself time to study each room. It was obvious that no energy had been spent cleaning or dusting in years. Once beautiful furnishings were now covered with the dull hue of neglect.

The study door stood ajar, not wide enough to be welcoming. Perry straightened her jacket and lifted her chin and her hopes as she stepped inside. Stale smoke hung in the room like a low cloud, assaulting her senses. Papers and books littered every table and chair, in no apparent order. Discarded clothing and empty bottles cluttered the floor. An old man relaxed by a dying fire, his feet propped on a stool. For an instant Perry thought she was looking at a dusty painting. Everything about him and his surroundings was faded. His hair was a dull gray and his clothes a washed-out blue. He stared at her with watery, colorless eyes.

As Perry's presence registered on the old gentleman he stood slowly, holding the arm of his tattered chair for support. "Allison, you've come home," he whispered as a tear weaved through the lines of his wrinkled cheek. "Allison, my dear," he whispered again as a glass fell from his hand and shattered.

Perry ran toward him, tears spilling over freely as she realized his mistake. "No, Grandfather, I'm Perry. Allison was my mother." Her words didn't reach him. "I'm Perry, Grandfather," she cried again.

A flood of tears came to his eyes, along with a degree of awareness. He held his hands up to her. "Perry. You're Perry? Welcome, Granddaughter."

Perry moved into his arms, hugging him tightly. He smelled, as he had years before, of dust and tobacco. She didn't remember the smell of brandy, which now clung to him as thickly as a layer of sweat.

He patted her on the back as he held her. "I'm so glad you're home," he mumbled again and again.

Perry was uncertain if he thought he held her or her mother, but at this moment she didn't care. It was good to be welcomed.

In an explosion of noise the door flew open and Noma appeared, wailing and waving her arms like an overstuffed scarecrow in a tornado. She ran to Perry, tears streaming down her brown cheeks. "My baby, you're all right!" she yelled. "I knew Captain Williams would find you and send you here safely. He promised he would, but I was worried sick."

Perry left her grandfather's arms to be swallowed up in Noma's hug. As the slave cried, Perry tried to comfort her. "Oh, Noma, it's all over. We're together now, nothing else matters." What Noma had done suddenly didn't matter, now that she was safe. Perry thought of telling her the truth about Wade, but that would only torture Noma's thoughts.

Turning once again to her grandfather, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Please excuse me while I change. It's been a long journey." The weariness of the trip was lightened by the knowledge that she now had a place to stay and a grandfather who, if somewhat loose in his grip on reality, nevertheless welcomed her.

"Yes, yes, dear." The old man waved his wrinkled hand as though it were a rag attached to his arm. "I'll see you at dinner. Noma will show you to your room." As he spoke the last few words, he lowered himself back into his chair, exhausted.

Perry followed Noma up the stairs. They moved down the long hall to the last room in silence. The dark, brooding atmosphere of the house whispered through the hallway and clung to the pictures and ornaments in moody shadows.

The door hinges to the last room screamed from neglect as Noma forced it wide. "This was your mother's room, Miz Perry. I cleaned it for you. I'll have James oil the door tomorrow.''

Perry hesitantly slipped inside, half fearing what she might see, but the room was bright and lacy, decorated in shades of blue. Everything, from the bed to the dressing table, seemed to have been built to Perry's height. If rooms had arms, this one's would be open wide. "Oh, Noma, I love it. Look, there's even a room for a lady's maid over here." Perry ran around the room, clasping her hands in delight. A feeling of welcome seemed to touch her, a warm greeting from a mother she'd never known.

Noma swelled with pride. "Everything's just as it was when your mother left. I even washed a few of her dresses and hung them up for you, thinking you'd be showin' up with no clothes."

Perry touched a porcelain statue of a cat and thought of Molly. "I was very lucky to meet a nice lady." Then, remembering her grandfather, she asked, "Noma tell me, was my grandfather really glad to hear I was coming?"

"He seemed happy, Miz Perry. Only he do drink. I worry about where his mind goes from time to time." Noma shook her head. "He's more in the past than in the here-'n-now."

Noma sat down on a midnight-blue velvet-covered stool in front of a beautifully carved triple-mirrored dressing table. "The other blackies told me that after your mother left, your grandfather had this room locked. He had it opened when he heard you were coming. Old James told me hisself your mom went over that very balcony the night she ran away with your father."

"I never knew Mother ran away. That does sound romantic." As she spoke, Perry moved through French doors to a tiny balcony. She looked out over an overgrown, forgotten garden as she continued, "That might explain why Papa and Grandfather never were friendly." She thought of the time she'd seen the two men together and could never remember either of them speaking directly to the other.

Perry's mood lightened suddenly. She was safe and the war was over. She ran back to Noma and placed a protective arm around the old woman's shoulder. "Tell me, what happened to you after you left the barn?"

Noma stared at their triple reflections in the mirrors in front of her. "I hadn't gone a mile when I saw bluecoats everwhere. I hid out in the woods for two days before they caught me. I was plum figuring myself for coyote meat when this captain appeared. He questioned me pretty hard at first, till he learned I was from Ravenwood. Then he got real nice and said he was worried about-you. He said his folks were from around here and he'd find you and see that you were taken care of."

Turning her face to the windows, Perry answered, "He found me, but I'd already made plans to come back."

Noma wiped her eyes on her apron. "I were so worried."

Perry smiled kindly at Noma. Worry had aged the old woman in the short time they'd been apart. Having raised Perry, Noma felt responsible for her, as if Perry were a child. But Perry was no longer a child, and now she fought resentment for being thought of as such. Noma's mothering had almost cost her her life. Perry made a mental note to be more careful about what she shared with Noma in the future. As they talked, Perry told Noma little of her travels. The people she'd met and grown to love these past days would remain in her memory and her dreams.

The weeks settled into a pleasant routine. Perry and Noma spent most of their days cleaning and airing out the house. James and his wife, Sarah, who served as cook, were the only servants. All the others had run away during the war. James and Sarah were too old to change. They'd spent a lifetime at Three Oaks. It was home to them. The elderly black couple drew great pleasure from telling Perry all they knew of the history of the place.