Alana (11 page)

But when the sky began to lighten, Alana wordlessly left the bed. After she put on her nightdress, she gazed down at Rafe.

“Good-bye, my love.”

After she left, Rafe sat back in the bed and accepted what had happened with the knowledge that it was because Alana was so strong that he loved her. He had known all along that she would never leave Jason.

Rafe also knew, without any doubt, that despite the fact she would marry Jason, every word she had spoken was the truth.

He knew, too, that there would never be another woman who could take his heart the way Alana had, and for as long as he lived, he would never allow himself to give up the hope that she would one day be his, completely.

“
Now
you hold still, chile’!” Lorelei ordered as she pulled back on the drawstring of the corset.

“Why bother?” Alana asked, looking in the long oval mirror. “I don’t need this thing.” It wasn’t vanity, it was a simple truth. The corset did nothing to alter her already-slim midsection.

“’Cause, Alana chile’, dat fine and beautiful weddin’ dress ain’t gonna fit you without dis. De dress be made to ride on de corset, not on de skin.” With that, Lorelei tugged once again, and at last, Alana felt an answering pressure. But, it was in the further uplifting of her breasts, not in the contracting of her midsection.

When Lorelei finished with the corset, she inspected Alana’s face minutely. “I doesn’t like the way you is lookin’,” she said almost beneath her breath as she began to rub a rose petal on Alana’s cheekbones.

While Lorelei worked, Alana listened to the low sea of voices that floated in through her open window, reminding her that in half an hour she would be walking along the aisle created by all two hundred of her guests.

Where has the time gone
? she wondered. Ever since leaving Rafe’s room yesterday morning, she had lost her perspective. Everything had rushed by, and although she had reacted normally, going about her day as if nothing were bothering her, she had felt herself floating above a dark abyss that was constantly threatening to open and swallow her. Her voice seemed to come from someone else; her movements seemed apart from her, and the smile that was on her face had become fixed without her feeling it.

She had greeted the guests warmly, even though part of her mind was in a constant state of mourning. She had been the perfect hostess and the perfect nervous bride. While she played her part, she had continued to oversee the preparations for the wedding.

Because of the number of early guests who would be spending the night, there was never a moment that Alana was alone, and although she had caught sights of Rafe throughout the previous day, he always had been far away from her. That had been the one thing that had allowed her to function normally.

With Lorelei now applying color to her face, the only thing remaining before the wedding was to put on the dress. A dark wave of doubt washed across her mind. Yet in the face of every-thing, Alana pulled her shoulders back and smiled at Lorelei.

“How is Jason?”

“Gabriel done dressed him, and when I saw him afore, he looked right handsome,” Lorelei responded. Then she looked into Alana’s eyes for a moment before she closed her own. “I’s sorry chile’. May the Lord forgive me, but I’s sorry fo’ what you is about to–” The rest of Lorelei’s words did not come; instead, tears did.

And those tears, so valuable to Alana because of the woman who shed them, became the one thing that gave her the strength to face what she must. Taking a deep breath, Alana held out her arms. It was almost a repeat of what had happened the other day between them, except she took Lorelei to her bosom. She held her old nurse tightly until Lorelei’s breathing eased. When Lorelei drew back, Alana spoke.

“We both know what I’m doing is right. And it is, Lorelei,” she whispered fervently, “it has to be.”

“Yes, Alana, chile’, I knows dat–in my mind at least. But–”

“Then enough crying. Help me with the dress.”

~~~~~

Rafe stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had been surprised at the prowess of the seamstress and at the way the hastily made suit complemented his physique.

The royal blue material fell in sleek lines from shoulder to boot, accenting his height. Beneath the jacket was a vest of the same hue and material. Beneath that was a white linen shirt with a high rolled collar and laced cuffs that reached to the thumb knuckle and not a hair’s breadth further.

Rafe’s jet and silver hair was combed back from his face. The gauntness which had been so apparent two weeks before was almost gone, and he was surprised at how much he looked like the paintings of his father that had graced his home in San Francisco.

Shaking his head, he tied the silken scarf into a knot and tucked it into the vest. The tips of the collar rolled over it, and the finished look was exactly right. Turning, he started toward the door.

He’d placed his emotions within a special area of his mind, closing the door upon them and locking away his secret of Alana where no one would ever learn of it. He was strong, just as Alana had stated. And because he was, he had no choice but to accept, this one time, what the fates had decreed. It was more than just his fate at stake, he knew, for if no one else would be hurt by his actions, he would have carried Alana off' long ago.

“Steady,” he cautioned himself. Rafe took several deep breaths and set the planes of his face into the same mask he had worn yesterday and last night.

When he was in full control of his emotions, he went to the door, opened it, and went down to the library so that he and Jason could go to the north lawn together.

~~~~~

Alana, with three young plantation girls carrying the train of her bridal gown, walked to where the narrow white carpet had been unrolled on the grass. As she did, she gazed at everything around her. To her right was the area that had been set up for the feasting and dancing that would follow the ceremony. Workers dashed back and forth, as they finished placing all the accouterments on the tables.

At the far end of the area was a small raised platform with four empty chairs for the musicians, who would play their music for the rest of the day and well into the night.

Ahead of Alana were her guests. They stood in two groups on each side of the narrow white aisle that ran for a hundred feet from the base of the flowered pulpit.

As she came closer to the white cotton runner, faces turned her way. Yet she held her head straight and looked only toward her destination and the three men who waited there. Rafe was by far the tallest, and the pastor was of medium height. Jason was seated in his wheeled chair but his head was held proudly; the sun sparkled from the brass buttons of his jacket.

By the time her feet touched the cotton runner, every head was turned toward her. Her veil did not hide the expressions of others from her, even though she knew it prevented them from seeing her very clearly.

All too soon, she was no longer able to think of anything except forcing herself toward her fate. Behind her, the three girls released the train and the material fell gracefully to the ground.

Alana walked down the aisle alone, much in the same way she had always walked her path in life.

Rafe’s breath caught with his first sight of Alana. She stood straight, walking slowly toward him. The sun fell gently on her, illuminating the wedding gown with its pure light.

The gown itself was magnificent. The fabric started beneath her chin and flowed downward. The material hugged her shoulders and upper arms before billowing out at her elbows. The bodice covered her completely, arching over her breasts and then pulling sharply in to accent her small waist and flaring hips.

Then it billowed out again, as the many petticoats beneath it gave it a life of its own. The hem reached to the very tips of the neatly shorn grass, giving the appearance that Alana was floating just above the earth itself. The train flowed out behind her, tossed gently by the breeze.

Rafe’s eyes tried to penetrate through the hazy veil to look at Alana’s face. But in that he failed, and perhaps he was glad.

He looked briefly at Jason, trying to control his rage and jealousy toward the friend with whom he had been through so much. None of this was really Jason’s fault. Indeed, Jason had claimed Alana before the war had even begun; this day had been set by fate long ago.

When Alana reached the pulpit, Rafe grasped the handles of Jason’s wheeled chair and pushed it next to her. He noticed that Jason was alert and that he smiled kindly at Alana. Then Rafe stepped to Jason’s side and, without realizing it, clasped his hands together so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Rafe looked neither left nor right; he concentrated on the pastor’s words, waiting until the pastor turned to him and spoke.

“And who stands forward to witness this holiest of events?” the man asked.

Rafe tensed, his eyes locking first with Jason’s and then with Alana’s. Finally, he looked at the pastor and spoke. “I stand forward,” he said.

The pastor smiled, nodded his head, and turned to the bride and groom and began to speak again. But Rafe heard nothing save a drone in the air.

Before he realized it, the service was over and Alana was Jason’s wife. Moving slowly, he bent to Jason and shook his hand. Then he looked at Alana and into the face that was no longer hidden by the veil.

He saw the moistness within her large blue eyes and the tense smile on her lips. Rafe did his best to smile. “Congratulations,” he said in a full, if tight, voice.

A moment later a crowd of men surrounded Alana, and a crowd of women did the same to Jason. Rafe stood back, his mind numb. He was biding his time now. He had but one obligation left, and that was the promise he had made Jason to dance the first dance in his stead.

When the crowd began to break apart–most of the people headed to the refreshment area–Rafe tried to lose himself within them, but Jason called him back.

When he reached Jason’s side, Alana was gone, spirited off by the women. He heard Jason’s loud sigh, and within it the ever present pain.

He wheeled the chair toward the open area and went to the table set for two at the head of all the other tables.

“Are you all right?” he asked Jason.

“Fine,” Jason nodded with a smile. “But I could do with a strong drink.”

Rafe nodded his head. “I’ll second that.” Rafe looked around and waved a servant over.

“Bourbon?” he asked Jason.

“A deep one.”

“Two,” he told the man. A moment later the servant returned with the drinks.

“To survival,” Jason said as he looked into Rafe’s eyes.

“To your new life and marriage,” Rafe replied pointedly.

Jason looked up at Rafe. “When are you leaving?” His voice held a tone of doubt that Rafe heard clearly.

“After the first dance.”

“Then this is it, eh, old friend?”

“This is it, Jason.”

“I know you’ll find the people who tried to destroy you,” Jason said in a low voice.

“I will, Jason. No matter how long it takes, I will.”

Before anything else could be said, a wave of noise reached the men at the tables as the women returned to the lawn.

At their fore, surrounded by a half dozen other women her own age, was Alana. The veil and train were gone. The sun bounced off her raven hair as the women escorted her to the area set aside for dance.

The musicians struck up a chord, and as the other women backed away, Alana looked at Rafe and Jason and waited. Slowly Rafe turned back to Jason and took his hand again.

“Thank you, Jason.” Their eyes met again, and they stayed that way until Rafe finally released his grip. Then he turned back to Alana and walked the twenty feet it took to reach her.

The music continued, and he offered his hand to her. She accepted it and, as they began to move together, they flowed within the strains of the waltz.

They did not speak any words, but their eyes locked. This should have been their wedding; they should have been dancing their first dance as man and wife.

Halfway through the waltz, the other couples began to join them. Only when the dance was almost at its end did Rafe speak.

“If you ever need me, no matter what the reason, send for me, or come to me. I will always be there for you, as will my love.”

As he spoke, Alana’s eyes caressed his face. When he finished, Alana imperceptibly nodded her head as her hand tightened on his. The music ended. Rafe bowed, kissed the tender skin of her hand, and escorted her to the table where her husband awaited her.

After helping her to sit, Rafe turned and, without a backward glance, walked gracefully away.

He rode hard and fast and arrived in Charleston at four. After returning the horse to the livery stable, he paused to open the letter that Lorelei had handed him before he had ridden from Riverbend.

“Mister Rafe, Miss Alana asked me to give you dis. She say you ain’t to open it till you be in Charleston.”

Rafe had taken the letter and had felt the weight within it as he put it into his bag. “Thank you, Lorelei, for everything.”

“You be welcome, Mister Rafe. And–”

Seeing the confusion on her face, Rafe had not pushed her; rather, he had waited patiently until she had marshaled her thoughts.

“I jus’ wants to tell you thank you fo’ makin’ Miss Alana happy.” With that, Lorelei had fled, leaving Rafe staring at the spot she had occupied.

Standing in the stable in Charleston, Rafe opened the envelope and peered within. The first thing he’d seen were three gold coins. Then he saw another object: a simple gold ring.

After taking them out, he’d unfolded the letter and read it slowly. When he’d finished, his eyes were moist, but he forced himself to reread every word.

Dearest Rafe,

It is with a heavy heart that I must watch you leave me today. What we have shared is something given to very few, and it is something that I will cherish for the rest of my life.