Author's Note

I solemnly swear I will not profit from this work. The setting for this story was inspired by Coming Out Of the Dark by Jordan Trevor, so props to this writer. I tried, a little, but the historical detail here may be … wrong and I apologize in advance. I hope I haven't offended anyone; I love everyone. There will some 'M' stuff later on and clearly marked. All will be made clear. Eventually. Please keep with it and enjoy.

Peace,

Liz

Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat at the desk, his desk now, the imposing oak furniture that dominated the office. The room was larger than his space on board his ship, but smaller than the study at Labarre. It felt small to Picard, but he supposed it was appropriate for a gentleman, who needed to appear as though he did little work. At any rate, it had met the needs of his brother, Robert. It remained to be seen whether the sparse room would suffice for Jean-Luc, now that he had inherited the office, the house, the plantation and nearly 200 souls who lived and worked on it.

Since his arrival a week ago, just after the funerals for Robert and his nephew René, Jean-Luc had finalized the issues of the estate with Robert's lawyer and familiarized himself with operations on the vast property. The books were straightforward. The overseer, an odd man named Noonien Soong, did not at first strike Jean-Luc as competent. After he observed the man from a distance, however, he saw that he had a good understanding of cultivation and various other tasks. The workers—no, slaves, Jean-Luc reminded himself, call them what they are—seemed to respect him and to be accustomed to Soong's distracted way of speaking, as though he were constantly becoming lost in his thoughts. Soong was assisted by a man whom Jean-Luc considered the real overseer of the plantation, a slave named Worf. Worf was tall and muscular and spoke with a deep, authoritative voice. Soong often gave orders to Worf with the understanding that the African would communicate them to the rest of the field hands. No, slaves, Jean-Luc insisted.

The affairs of the house were conducted much the same way, with Marie issuing general orders to a highly skilled manager of sorts, an African woman named Guinan. Despite her status as a slave, with no rights whatsoever in the American South, Guinan carried herself with a calm, regal bearing. She saw that the work of the house was accomplished efficiently and to Marie's liking. Marie and Guinan were close, Jean-Luc observed, as Europeans and their servants sometimes grew. Marie often relied on Guinan's advice and assistance and Guinan was always nearby to offer them. Guinan supervised the staff of the house, which included a blind man—slave—who performed sundry small chores for her. If someone else aligned a button and threaded a needle, for example, Geordi could sew it back on to the clothing. He had become familiar enough with the house and yard that he could navigate on his own, with a stick to ensure his path was clear. Still, his presence and ability to make himself useful were another part of the household that discomfited Jean-Luc.

In fact, Jean-Luc had a great deal of difficulty adjusting to the idea of slavery powering his brother's, now his, great plantation. The land, the money in the bank, the riches with which the great house was adorned—all were paid for with blood money, as far as Jean-Luc was concerned. He was resolved to free these people as soon as he could.

Though still very much mourning the tragic loss of her husband and son in a barn fire, his sister-in-law Marie was quite helpful in helping him to learn the ways of southern culture. Having left the vineyard under the expert care of his friend Louis, Jean-Luc had prepared to stay on the plantation for an extended period. He had retired from his commission in the navy nearly a year ago and he had already tired of the vineyard. After a career spent traveling the world, he was ready for a change. He realized that farming in the United States might grow as tedious as farming in France, but he was interested in seeing the country and a different way of life. With its rigid social structure, its heat and humidity and its slavery, life in Georgia was most certainly different from anything he had ever experienced before. Marie guided him in how to dress for the heat, eat fried foods, and the myriad other manners and customs that would enable him to fit in.

Several of the neighbors had paid visits to check on Marie and meet Jean-Luc. The women fluttered over Marie, bringing desserts or other dishes. Jean-Luc usually sat with the female visitors long enough to appear polite, having a drink and perhaps a finger sandwich, but would excuse himself to return to the business of the plantation as soon as possible.

As a group, he noticed, the women were not very subtle in their attempts to flirt with him. Two spinsters, Nella Darren, the younger of the two, and Kate Pulaski, well past her prime, were the first to visit. Jean-Luc ably dodged their questions and, he hoped, communicated his disinterest with his body language and his hasty retreat. Far more persistent was the next caller, Lwaxana Troi. A widow, Mrs. Troi was a formidable opponent, parrying his insistence in returning to work with the retort that he had nearly two hundred slaves and an overseer to do whatever work needed to be done. That comment had sparked a smile and stifled laugh from Mrs. Troi's daughter, Deanna, who was much more pleasant and attractive, but not of any interest to Jean-Luc. Deanna Troi was a young woman who, he thought, deserved a young man. Jean-Luc could not tell if another woman, Alynna Nechayev, a widow of Russian descent, who had been running her late husband's plantation for many years, was interested in him for marriage or for the purchase of Robert's land. He rather suspected the latter, as her conversations typically focused on business—a clear breach of etiquette, according to Marie.

Men from nearby plantations also visited to pay their respects and talk business. Jean-Luc liked Will Riker, the son of a prominent planter and state politician. Riker had offered to help him should he encounter any difficulty and Jean-Luc promised to take him up on the offer if needed. The other gentleman, Quinton DeLancie, known universally by his nickname, "Q," like Mrs. Nechayev, hinted that he was more interested in the land than in Jean-Luc. The man's aggressiveness, fast talk and overly familiar manner immediately put Jean-Luc on guard. Even before he was able to consult Marie and have her confirm his suspicions, he knew he would never trust Q. Just as devious-appearing was Q's petite wife, Victoria, known by her childhood nickname, "Vash." She made suggestive remarks in front of her husband and stared at Jean-Luc with a leer he was more accustomed to seeing on sailors putting in to port and eying saloon women after a long journey. Marie was quite embarrassed by Vash's behavior and took pains to emphasize that she was not close to her, although they did belong to the same sewing circle.

Recalling the trying visits as he wrapped up the day's correspondence, Jean-Luc remembered that Marie had asked the local physician to dinner. She had assured him that he would like the man, who tended to be a more worldly and intriguing conversationalist than the planters. Jean-Luc hoped that he would be, as the dinner would be a long affair with no obvious exit route should it prove uncomfortable or boring. He sighed and opened Robert's journal to read about what needed to be done on the plantation prior to the harvest.

Beverly Crusher slowed her stride to match that of her companion. She was used to doing so, but had sped up walking downhill without realizing it. Behind her, Dr. Dalen Quaice proceeded deliberately, mindful of his aging bones and eyesight. He caught up to her once the path leveled out. Like Beverly, he carried a heavy black bag of medical supplies and equipment.

"Beverly," he asked, "do you remember the name of the pregnant woman?"

"There were two women, Dalen," she reminded him. "Do you mean the one who was farther along, who must be almost due by now? Her name is Tate."

"Oh yes," Dr. Quaice remembered. "Make sure you check in on her because she went early with her last one. I recall her cabin is in the last section, almost to the fence."

Beverly smiled at her mentor's memory, strong as ever with the more important details, but saving its slowly dwindling strength where matters of lesser importance were concerned. She had worked alongside Dalen Quaice for ten years, ever since her husband, Jack, had died, and the two of them had a good professional relationship. During surgery, Beverly would hand him an instrument before he asked for it. In the office, located in Dalen's house, Beverly kept meticulous patient records, transcribing his detailed discussions of each person's medical conditions and family history. When he examined women and children, Beverly helped the patients feel more at ease, with soothing words and touches.

Always eager to learn, Beverly had taken to science and medicine like a fish to water. She had learned the healing powers of local plants and flowers from her grandmother, Felisa, when she was just a child. She brought that knowledge to Dalen when she needed to find a way to support herself and her son, Wesley. She became his nurse and was such a quick study that Dalen came to think of her as his apprentice, although, as a woman, she of course could not become a doctor. Dalen bristled at the social moré that prevented Beverly from using the title she deserved, and he struck back by raising her pay accordingly and allowing her to practice medicine wherever possible, such as childbirth and treating the female slave population of the county. That is, for the few slave owners, like the Picards, who would allow a white doctor to treat their slaves.

On these plantations, Dalen and Beverly split up to examine the patients by gender on an annual basis, more or less. Beverly had learned even more about medicinal herbs and roots from slave healers well versed in African and southern plants. She was always eager to learn more.

"It's hard to tell which one of us will finish first," Dalen said. "It might be easier for us to meet up at the house."

Beverly nodded. "If I get there first, I'm going to have some wine with Marie while we wait for you," she joked. As a young woman, Beverly had traveled some and, although it was not considered ladylike, when she visited her French friend, she enjoyed the French custom of having wine with, and sometimes before, dinner.

Dalen laughed. "And if I get there first, I'm going to have some wine with Marie and her brother-in-law."

Beverly's face clouded. She had been so busy preparing for these visits this afternoon that she had forgotten that Marie's long-estranged brother-in-law was staying with her. Marie had told her when he was en route, but she had not visited her friend since the man's arrival. As fond as Beverly was of Marie, and of René, she had always found Robert to be a bit stodgy, even mal-tempered at times. He had seemed to disapprove of her failure to re-marry, without saying so directly, and he simply frightened Wesley.

Now, his brother was here. Beverly imagined him to be just like Robert, except possibly worse. Marie had once explained the rift between the two brothers, Robert dutifully taking care of his parents and the family property, while the younger one ran off to join the navy. Robert did not seem to think much of his brother and, for his part, the brother never wrote or visited. He did not seem like a family man, and Beverly had built up a negative image of him based on what she had heard. If anything, he reminded her of the kind of men who traveled through the South, restless, impatient and, often, looking for a fling with an unattached woman. She had had to fend off and, in some cases, fight off, plenty of those men since Jack's death.

Beverly was content to assist Dalen, cook, keep house for them both—she owned a small house next door to him—and raise Wesley. From an early age, Wesley had been precocious. As he grew older, Beverly took on more of his educational responsibilities herself, finding books for him in libraries near and far, until she ran out of ways to give him new information. At that point, she enlisted others to train him in practical matters, such as Dalen, whose medical books Wesley had read. Another tutor was Noonien Soong, whom Wesley had met while Beverly visited Marie. Soong gave Wesley practical experience in areas in which Beverly knew very little, such as agriculture and mechanics.

Taking care of her home, guiding Wesley's education and working with Dalen took up nearly all of Beverly's time, leaving no energy or hours for romance. In the little free time she had, she was part of a sewing circle and she read voraciously, medical books, but also novels, poems and plays. Because she tended to be more interested in the arts than most people in the county, she gravitated toward Marie, who shared her interests. The two women also felt a bond as outsiders, Marie because she was from another country, and Beverly, because of her lifestyle. Now, tragically, they shared widowhood.

Beverly sighed. For the sake of her friend, whose wounds were still raw, and whom she truly wanted to see, Beverly would tolerate the brother-in-law. Surely, she could make it through one dinner.