Author's Note: A big thank you to everyone who reviewed Chapter One. The reviews really encourage me to keep writing, even when it gets hard. I had a difficult time pulling Chapter Two together, but ultimately, I'm very pleased with it. I hope my readers will be, too. Thank you for reading.

Morning Messes

India woke and stretched lazily as long beams of white sunlight shone through the lace curtains and fell in long beams across the hardwood floor. The city outside was already awake and in motion; she heard the sound of horses' hooves clopping against the ground and, somewhere in the distance, the sound of a hammer knocking nails into a piece of wood. She rose from her bed and dressed slowly, for she was not eager to start her day. There was nothing to look forward to or anticipate with any excitement. She sighed as she brushed her hair and carefully pinned it up.

Upon arriving downstairs she found Aunt Pittypat eating a hearty breakfast. "Good morning, Auntie," India greeted with as much cheer as she could muster. She kissed her aunt's cheek softly.

"Oh, good morning, India dear." Aunt Pitty dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin and gestured for India to sit beside her. "Some breakfast?"

"No, nothing Auntie, thank you. Except perhaps some coffee."

"Oh, of course. Uncle Peter! Miss India would like some coffee, please." The women sat in silence until Uncle Peter's wife, Martha, emerged from the other room carrying the silver tea service on a tray.

"Miz Hamilton, Peter ain' gon' be 'round today," Martha announced as she poured India's coffee. "Hiz back givin' him trouble again. Po' thang can' get outta bed even."

"Oh, dear!" Aunt Pitty's fat face reddened, her eyes darted back and forth worriedly. "Whatever shall I do without Uncle Peter?!"

She'd better start thinking about it, India thought, covering a sardonic smile. Uncle Peter is certainly getting on in years. Poor woman depends on him as if the man did her very breathing for her. "Everything's going to be all right, Aunt Pitty," she consoled aloud, patting her aunt's pudgy hand. "Martha is here. She can manage both the cooking and receiving visitors today."

"Yes, yes." Aunt Pitty relaxed a bit and fanned herself with her hand. "Martha, my medicine."

"Yes'm." Martha left the room to retrieve the pills but returned empty handed. "Ain't no mo' medicine in that lil' bottle, Miz Hamilton."

Aunt Pitty directly flew into a panic, fanning and shaking nervously. India rolled her eyes as Martha, anticipating disaster, darted to retrieve Aunt Pitty's smelling salts from her reticule. She held them under her nose quickly, before Aunt Pitty could faint or even threaten to faint. "Oh, ohhhh!" Aunt Pittypat gasped as she straightened up in her chair and signaled for Martha to fan her. "I just don't know what to do. I can't ask Martha to fetch my pills for me…what if someone calls while she's gone? And I have to have my pills, I just have to! I don't know what would happen if I didn't get them. Why, I could be dead by tomorrow morning!"

India understood her aunt's subtle hint and rose to get her bonnet before heading out into the morning sunlight. "I'll go see Dr. Meade about your medicine, Auntie," India reassured her, tired of her aunt's overactive imagination and counterfeit nervous condition. What a fuss over a tiny bottle of sugar pills! Yes, India was fully aware that Dr. Meade had prescribed nothing that aided Pittypat's nerves. Instead he had eased her mind with a recommendation for some sugar capsules. Of course, Aunt Pitty swore the medicine was a life saver, and that Dr. Meade was a medical genius. "Ashley can wait a few extra minutes before leaving for the mill." India took the small brown basket from the hall tree and left before Aunt Pitty could feign protest.

"Well, India!" Dr. Meade exclaimed, wiping his hands on a handkerchief before reaching to shake her hand politely. "What brings you in today? Everything all right?"

"Oh, fine, Dr. Meade, fine. Actually I'm on an errand for my Aunt Pitty. She's run out of her medicine. She wondered if you might write her another prescription."

"Why, of course," Dr. Meade replied with a knowing smile. "I'll get it for you right away."

India settled into an uncomfortable wooden chair, folding her hands in her lap. She glanced around the room, taking notice of a thin layer of dust coating the books on a nearby shelf. Reminds me of myself, she mused, just sitting around collecting dust until somebody needs my help; has an errand for me to run or a job for me to do. I don't know how I've suddenly become so sedentary, so unnecessary.

Soon Dr. Meade returned with the prescription in hand, and India thanked him civilly before stepping out of the office and back into the sunshine. She adjusted her bonnet and walked across the street to the apothecary. Mr. Greer, the kind, balding man behind the counter, filled the prescription immediately and handed it to India with a hearty smile. India felt a bit envious of his happiness; of the happiness of every smiling person she passed along the road back to Aunt Pitty's. It seemed as if they all had some kind of secret…something to hold onto that made them happy despite the dull errands and jobs at which they worked. India supposed all she had to look forward to was days full of sewing circles and literary clubs, church socials and singings. The life of an old maid; that's all she had to look forward to.

"Good morning, Ashley," India forced another smile as she entered the Wilkes' home, which seemed dark all the time now that Melanie was gone. "I'm so sorry I'm late, but I had to run an errand for Aunt Pitty."

"Oh, it's quite all right, India," Ashley replied amid puffs on the pipe between his teeth. He sat cross-legged in a chair, reading a newspaper through wire-rimmed half-moon shaped glasses at the end of his nose. When had Ashley become an old man? India had never seen him look so elderly before. But then they'd both aged before their time, or so it seemed.

"Have you eaten anything? I'm sure Beau will want something. Is he still asleep?"

"Yes. I didn't have the heart to wake him today. He got so little sleep last night."

"Oh, Ashley…"

"More dreams of his mother. They must be very real to him. He wakes expecting to find her in our bedroom, and he's so disappointed when she isn't there," Ashley stared blankly at the wall before him as he spoke. "It's as if I have to break his heart all over again, every night."

"Ashley, I'm sorry…"

"So am I, dear, so am I. I wish I knew what to say to him, how to help him. Melanie was everything to him, just as she was to me. I cannot help him because I cannot help myself. I can't seem to do anything the way Melanie did," then half-smirking, "Beau reminds me of that often. It's been very difficult for me, for both of us, to learn how to live without her."

India blinked away the tears that sprung into her eyes with Ashley's tortured admissions. They remained silent for several minutes, the ticking of the nearby grandfather clock the only sound they heard. India concentrated on the sound pensively. Funny how you never heard certain sounds until the rest of the room was silent; almost the same way you never really appreciated your loved ones until they were gone. She regained control of her thoughts, sniffed nobly and went directly into the kitchen to make breakfast.

"Ashley, your pantry is bare!" India announced from the kitchen.

Ashley soon appeared in the doorway, still wearing his glasses but holding the pipe in one hand, newspaper in the other. "Oh, India, I am sorry. Up until last week, the ladies from the church had been sending over covered dishes. I suppose I…just hadn't thought about doing the shopping." He stared hard at the dark, wood floor, his face slightly reddened with embarrassment.

India shrugged as she closed the pantry door, attempting to seem unabashed by her brother's confession. After all, a man wouldn't know much about shopping, would he? Of course Melanie had done it all, and Ashley never had to worry about it before now. "Can you be a bit late for work today? You could stay home with Beau while I get a few things from the general store…"

"No, India, I couldn't have it. I'll drop a few things by before I go to the mill…"

"But Ashley, you'd be going all the way downtown, bringing the parcels back here, then turning right around and going back to the mill. No, let me go. It won't take me long."

"But India it's my responsibility to provide for Beau. I won't have you…"

"I don't want to hear another word about it. Yours is the first face Beau should see when he wakes up. He has to adjust to living alone with you, Ashley. Now, I'm going to the store for a few things. I'll be back shortly." India didn't wait for Ashley to respond. Instead, she took her bonnet from a table in the entranceway and stepped again into the morning sunshine. She had done the right thing for little Beau and for Ashley, but she dreaded returning to town; being forced to smile back at all the cheerful people surrounding her, pretending to be happy when they shared their personal triumphs or special family news. She herself was no longer happy, and she probably never would be again.

India shuffled down the red clay streets at an excruciatingly slow pace. She knew that Ashley had to get to the mill. He was probably pacing back and forth through the parlor right now, glancing at his gold pocket watch every minute or two, wondering how long it could possibly take to purchase a few groceries. However, India had made two trips into town before ten o'clock, and the new black boots she wore had not been properly broken in before she began these excursions. Her feet felt as if they were on fire, aching more with every step she took. She was certain the delivery boy would have the groceries to Ashley's before she could arrive there; she had to hurry.

She finally stopped in front of the Grand Hotel and knelt down to loosen her bootstraps. She absolutely couldn't bear to walk another step. And while maybe it wasn't considered acceptable to prance around Atlanta with untied boots, India couldn't think of any better way to get back to Ashley's house without going completely barefoot.

THUD. A dull blow struck her head, sending India sprawling into the street face-first. She reacted instantly, jumping to her feet (completely disregarding the pain she felt as she stood) and brushing the dust from her dress. She glared up at the heavy wooden door, which she knew was the object that had hit her, and found herself face to face with a tall, well-to-do looking man in a gray suit.

"Oh, excuse me," he said with a smirk. His voice contained no remorse, and his steely blue eyes danced with a twinge of laughter.

India stood motionless for a moment, unable to express the anger she felt. Finally though, she regained her speech. "How dare you!"

"Me?"

"The nerve of some people!"

"Wh--What?!"

"First you shove me over into the street, then you can't even apologize without laughing? Well, I never!" She wanted shove him, to hit him, to run at him, her arms flailing in circles like a windmill. She'd had enough smiling, enough laughing for one day. She simply couldn't tolerate anymore. She stared at him hard, her eyes conveying the coldness she felt in her heart.

"Forgive me, Miss, but…"

"No! No, it's too late for apologies. I see how funny my injuries are to you…"

"I wasn't going to apologize," the man interjected.

She gaped at him for a minute. "Hmph!" India straightened her skirt, then her bonnet, and turned to storm toward Ashley's house.

The deep, masculine voice stopped her. "I was going to say what happened is your fault."

"My fault!?"

"Yes, Miss --?"

"Wilkes! Wilkes, not that it matters to you! Not only are my injuries funny to you, now you're saying I'm liable for being hit in the head with a door and knocked into the street!?" People had begun to gather, curious about the commotion. India's voice became louder and louder, and her face became redder and redder.

"Well, Miss Wilkes, you were kneeling down in front of the hotel door," the man informed her very matter-of-factly. India looked at him to see that he was offering his hand to her. "I'm Greyson McAllister. It's very nice to meet you, Miss Wilkes."

India glared at the extended hand for a moment, then at Greyson McAllister's laughing eyes. She had become aware of the small crowd that now surrounded the two of them, so she chose not to respond to his offering. Instead she turned for Ashley's, surprised that he hadn't come out looking for her by now. She just wanted to away from town as quickly as she could, so she could put the whole messy morning behind her.