They landed in Charleston with a sharp bump on the runway, which woke Savannah up, and she looked at her father in surprise. For a moment, she had forgotten who she was with and where she was going. It came back to her in a rush when she saw his face.

“We’re here, baby. I’m glad you slept for a little while. You needed it.” She nodded, turned her phone back on, and saw a text message from her mother that said only, “I love you. See you soon.” And Tom suddenly sounded even more southern than he had before. He was home. And Savannah was far, far from hers, and felt like a lost soul.

She followed her father off the plane, and they got their luggage, her three big bags, and her father’s small one and his skis. Her mother had taken her skis home. A porter followed them outside with their bags on a trolley, and her father hailed a cab. She settled in beside him, and looked around as they drove home. She had heard her father give his address in Mt. Pleasant, the part of Charleston where he lived.

“Do you remember anything about Charleston from when you lived here?” Tom asked her gently, and Savannah shook her head, her eyes wide. She looked beautiful as she sat there, still wearing ski pants and a heavy sweater, and carrying her parka. Her hair hung down her back like spun gold, and her eyes were the color of cornflowers, a rich, vibrant blue. She looked exactly like her mother when he had met her, and he knew Luisa would see it too. Savannah was only four years younger than Alexa had been when he fell in love with her, after Luisa had abandoned him and the boys for someone else. He had been devastated then, and had found happiness he’d never dared to dream of with Alexa. And seven years later, he had been a total fool when Luisa returned and spun her web. When he thought of it now, as he did often, he knew he had gotten everything he deserved after that. But when he’d seen Alexa again, he realized she was still paying the price too. He felt desperately guilty for that-he had hoped she was long over it by then. Instead, he could still see the pain in her eyes. He hoped that now he could help her in some way, by taking care of their child, and doing all he could for her. He wasn’t going to let Luisa stop him this time, as she had so many times before, and he had let her. He was planning to do all he could for Savannah. She was his child too.

“I think I remember my school,” Savannah said softly, “and maybe the house, or the garden…and Henry and Travis,” her halfbrothers. She had had no contact with them for ten years.

The air outside was mild. It felt more like spring in New York than winter, and she was warm in the heavy sweater on the short ride. In fifteen minutes, they had reached Charleston, and she could see church spires rising in the air. She looked with curiosity and interest at the beautiful old homes they were driving past, painted in ice cream colors, with wrought-iron gates and balconies. The architecture was intricate and ancient, and there were lovely old bridges reaching out to tiny islands. There was a spectacular harbor full of boats, mostly sailboats. Tom pointed out Fort Sumter in the harbor, where the Civil War officially began. It was a beautiful city, and had an aura of history and grace about it. Before she came to hate it, Alexa had always said it was the most breathtaking city in the South, maybe the world. There were tall trees with moss hanging from them, which were still green although it was February. As they approached Mt. Pleasant her father told her they were oak trees.

“I’ll take you sightseeing tomorrow,” he promised, and took her hand in his, as she smiled bravely and nodded. Everything was so different and new, it felt like she was on another planet.

You could sense that everything here was different, a different culture, a different way of life, a respect for history, and a feeling of another world. She felt as though she was floating in space, although it was very pretty. The city seemed to be entirely about history and beauty. She knew that southerners were very proud of their history, and years before when she had asked her father about the Civil War, when she was studying it in school, he had corrected her and called it “the War Between the States,” and said there was nothing civil about it. Her father was every inch a southerner, by ancestry and birth, and very proud of it. He was a southern gentleman to the core, although her mother had walked away without a word when Savannah had said that to her over the years. Clearly, he hadn’t been “gentlemanly” to her, but he had extremely gracious manners. It didn’t change what he’d done to her either, but it made him nice to be around.

And the old black man who drove the cab had a heavy, warm accent. Savannah loved to hear it. Whenever she met someone from the South, it always reminded her of her father, and she said her father was from South Carolina. She was proud of it too, although in her style and habits and culture, she was a total New Yorker, like her mother. A Yankee.

The houses her father had pointed out to her in town predated the Civil War, and they bumped along over several cobblestone streets. He said there was a French Quarter he would show her too. There were two rivers, the Cooper and the Ashley. And her father told her that the beaches were terrific, at the Isle of Palms and Sullivan Island. He said she could go there when it got warmer. It was a small city, but there would be a lot for her to do. There were several colleges, coffeehouses where students hung out, and wonderful stores where she could go shopping. And he turned and asked her then if she knew how to drive a car. He was embarrassed not to know that about her but he didn’t. There was so much about her that he didn’t know-but he was about to learn now. He wondered if, in some ways, this flight from New York would turn out to be a blessing for them both. Her coming to Charleston to be with him would never have happened otherwise. Luisa would never have let it, and hadn’t for the last decade. Savannah had been banished. Thinking about it, he was deeply ashamed, and knew he should have been before this. It had made him uncomfortable, but never enough to do anything about it and challenge his wife.

“I have a license,” Savannah said cautiously. “I got my learner’s permit a year ago, and my license on my birthday, but I don’t use it. Mom doesn’t have a car-she rents one if we go away for the weekend. It’s too much trouble in the city. And you have to be twenty-five to drive a rented car, so I haven’t had much practice.” She sounded apologetic.

“Charleston is an easy city to drive in, once you know your way around. You can get your practice here. I’ll lend you one of ours. We have a couple of old ones.” He didn’t add “for the servants,” but Savannah guessed it. It was nice of him to offer. “You can drive to school.” Thinking about it scared her again, worrying about a school full of new faces, and being so different from all of them. She fell silent again as she thought about it. They drove over a beautiful bridge and entered Mt. Pleasant, the elegant neighborhood he lived in, east of the Cooper River. There were mile after mile of impressive mansions, each sitting on several acres of land, and always with the tall oak trees bordering the grounds and lining their driveways. He reminded her again that they were only ten minutes from the beach.

The architecture she was seeing was colonial, with tall white columns, stately entrances, ornate gates in some cases, and long driveways leading up to the houses. This was clearly the fanciest part of town, which didn’t surprise her. Nothing looked familiar to her as she gazed out the window, until suddenly the cab slowed, and turned into a driveway. There was a huge expanse of grounds, and the driveway seemed endless. Savannah’s eyes widened then as she turned to her father. She had recognized nothing so far, until this, but now she did.

“I remember this driveway.” He smiled as she said it, and looked pleased. There had been a small brass plaque on one of the brick posts at either side of the entrance that said Thousand Oaks. He told her that in the early days, before the war, there were said to be a thousand oaks bordering the property. He had never counted and doubted there were as many now; the land had been reduced to ten acres that made a handsome expanse surrounding and reaching far behind the house. She remembered now that there was a tennis court, and a pool in the back, where she used to swim with her mother and brothers. Tom had put it in for them, amid much excitement, and Savannah had loved it too. She swam like a fish, and still did. She was on the swimming team in school, as well as volleyball. She was going to miss all of it now.

As they drove up the driveway, she could see the house better. It was huge, and absolutely spectacular. It looked like something in a movie. Savannah remembered it now, only it was much bigger than she had expected. And the gardens surrounding it were exquisite, and would be even more so in spring. Her father smiled at the look of amazement on her face, and was delighted. Maybe she would like it here, and it would console her for the temporary loss of her mother. He hoped so.

The house was white with tall columns, and the front door was shiny black with an enormous antique brass knocker in the middle of it. The house had been built in the eighteenth century, and was part of the original plantation. There was nothing left now except the house and the ten acres it sat on. The crumbling old slave quarters were at the back of the property, and were used as sheds to store tools and gardening supplies. It was hard to believe that people had lived in the tiny rooms, as many as twelve or fifteen to a room. His mother liked to say that the Beaumonts had been extremely kind to their slaves, but it wasn’t something Tom was proud of. Savannah had asked him about it years before on their visits, and he had always changed the subject. He didn’t think slavery was a fitting topic of conversation.