Everlasting Light - A Civil War Romance Novella (9 page)

“That’s not necessary, Zeke.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I know my place. I’m Braeden’s wife.”

A smile split across his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

Zeke hauled in the tree and, without it blocking the doorway, Alaina took to the winter-barren field and the worn trail that cut through both properties. The Wheeler farm came into view, and she took purposeful strides toward the house. “Michael?” She knocked on the door.

He opened it within moments. “Lain …” His gaze brightened. “What brings you here?”

“Eggs. Might you have any to spare?”

“Haven’t checked recently.” He leaned against the doorframe, his one hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers. He seemed in no hurry to do her bidding. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going west. There’s land for the taking out there.”

“You’re leaving South Carolina?” The news saddened her. Michael was a friend, after all.

He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now but decided today.” He took her hand. “I want you to come with me.”

She pulled it from his grasp. “I can’t.”

“Braeden’s dead.”

“We don’t know that for sure, and until we do, I’m a married woman.”

“Oh, Lain …” Michael’s shoulders sagged. “What if you never know for sure?”

“Then I’ll never remarry.”

His gaze narrowed. “You would deny us both happiness just to be true to a … a memory?”

Alaina looked down at her shabby leather shoes. She hated to hurt him, and yet she’d made a decision about her future too. It didn’t include Michael.

“You’re a wonderful man.” She met his stare. “You deserve to marry a woman who loves you. But it’s not me. I love Braeden … and I always will.” A wounded expression crossed his swarthy features. “I’m sorry, but it’s not to be between us.”

“I know I could change your mind if you’d give me the chance.”

Alaina shook her head.

Seconds passed and then he gave a shrug as if in surrender. “Then I’ll leave as soon as I can pack. I reckon there’s no reason for me to stay in Richland County.”

“Will you stay until after Christmas at least?”

“Would it make a difference to you?”

“No. I’m waiting for Braeden.” Her resolved strengthened. “I’ll wait for the rest of my life if I have to.”

The muscle in his jaw worked as he gazed out over the ruins-strewn yard. She’d likely dashed his dreams, and the very idea made Alaina want to weep. But she wouldn’t. She’d made the right choice.

Michael faced her once more. He reached out to touch her cheek. Alaina drew back. “I’m a married woman, Michael.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. More sorry than you’ll ever know.”

She knew. But better he grieve now than marry a woman who didn’t love him—or worse, marry a woman who was still his best friend’s wife!

She tipped her head and forced a smile. “Now, about those eggs … can you spare a few?”

Chapter 10

A fine, freezing mist began to fall on Christmas Eve morning. Michael stood beneath the gloomy skies, clutching the reins of his pitiful team of mules. He’d loaded up everything he owned before driving his wagon over to say good-bye.

“You sure you don’t want to spend Christmas with us before you go west, son?” Sadness fell over Papa McKenna’s whiskered face as he shook Michael’s hand. “We’re going to miss you ’round here.”

“I’ll miss y’all, too.”

Alaina saw how he purposely avoided her gaze.

“Weather could get worse,” said Mama McKenna.

Michael jumped down and hugged her.

“Won’t you wait until the storm passes?”

“No. This is my time to leave.” Michael turned to Alaina. “You tell Braeden that I’m sorry I missed his homecoming.”

“I will.” She accepted his brief embrace.

When he stepped back, a wistful and amused gleam entered his eyes. “You know how I’ll always remember you, Laina?” He grinned. “In a golden dress with black brocade trim, twirling around and laughing like you don’t have a care in the world.”

“You would remember that sorry dance incident.”

“I wasn’t ever sorry.” He chuckled and climbed back up in the wagon. Taking up his mules’ reins, he slapped their backsides and started off toward the road.

“Bye, Mistah Michael.” Zeke lifted a hand goodbye, looking misty-eyed.

“I’ll write if I get a chance,” he called over his shoulder. “Maybe y’all can come out and visit me on my ranch someday.”

“God be with you, Michael,” Alaina called.

“I love you …” His gaze fixed on her, but only for a moment. “I love you all!”

They stood on the front porch and watched Michael’s wagon roll down the lonely, winding road.

“It’s a horrid day to travel.” Mama McKenna brushed back a wayward lock of her hair. “Why, that boy is liable to catch his death.”

“He’ll be all right.” Papa McKenna snorted. “He’s lived through worse than a little cold rain.”

Alaina shivered and walked into the house. Soon everyone else ambled back inside. Zeke stoked the fire. There was still much to be done in preparation for Christmas, but the dreary weather and Michael’s departure seemed to have dampened spirits.

Until Zeke started singing.

“‘Hark! The herald angels sing.’”

Alaina joined in. “‘Glory to the newborn King
.
Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled!’”

Soon Mama McKenna was tapping her toe, and Papa McKenna was humming along.

Later that morning, Suzanna and her family came to visit, bringing with them two plump pheasants ready to roast. God had provided their Christmas dinner. After an early, leisurely meal, they left the house to attend Christmas vespers. After the service, Alaina and Mama McKenna handed out venison stew and pieces of cornbread to families. Some folks hadn’t eaten in days.

“My, but that did my heart good,” Mama McKenna remarked as they rode home in the back of the Reynolds family’s wagon. Suzanna and her husband traveled in the other direction to their farm. Since Michael left, the McKennas no longer had convenient transportation, and the Reynoldses were happy to offer the ride home. Though there was a biting chill to the wind, the rain had stopped for now, making the ride bearable, even slightly enjoyable.

“Let’s sing a Christmas song,” one of the little Reynolds girls suggested.

“Good idea.” Alaina led them in
Silent Night
, and they sang until John Reynolds halted the wagon in front of the McKenna home. Alaina and her in-laws climbed down and bid the other family Merry Christmas.

“It’s so dark.” Alaina strained to see through the inky night. “Why, our home is barely visible from the main road.”

Her comment went unnoticed, but it troubled her throughout the rest of the evening.

What would You have me to do about the matter, Lord?
She worried that if Braeden came home, he wouldn’t know they were waiting for him. What if he thought the Yankees burned it to the ground like almost everything else?

“I’m going to turn in for the night,” Papa McKenna rose from his favorite armchair. Crossing the room, he leaned over and kissed the top of Alaina’s head. “Merry Christmas.”

She smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

“Aren’t you going to bed, dear?” Mama McKenna followed her husband up the stairs.

“I’ll be along shortly.”

The older couple retired for the night, and the room grew deathly still. Zeke had returned from attending church with his people but had long since gone to sleep in the lean-to that he and Papa McKenna constructed outside the back of the house. The cabin he’d grown up in on the far end of the farm had been destroyed by Union troops, like the other outbuildings. How grateful Alaina was that she and her family had a roof over their heads.

But what about Braeden? Was he somewhere out in the cold, the damp, and dark night?

Where is he, Lord? Where is he?

So much for what Zeke said about Braeden getting home in time for Christmas. It seemed unlikely. Tomorrow was Christmas Day. She’d see Mama and her youngest brother, David—that was something to look forward to.

Alaina blew out the candle perched on the table beside her. Darkness descended like a thick drape, and she couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face. Feeling around, she found a matchstick and she relit it then replaced its glass shade.

An idea struck. Why not put a candle in the window so if Braeden came home, he’d see a bit of light?
Like the star that guided the shepherds on the very first Christmas, the light in the window might guide Braeden home. The expense of the candle was great, but wasn’t Braeden worth it? Alaina couldn’t think of a better use for the wax taper than to light her beloved’s path back to her awaiting arms

The notion grew into her decision to set a candle in each wide sill of the four front windows, both downstairs and up. The last candle she lit was inside her bedroom. Braden wouldn’t miss the house now. What’s more, he’d know she waited for him.

She readied herself for bed and pulled the pins from her hair. She brushed it vigorously just as she did almost every night. Outside, she could hear the wind whistling through the treetops. She heard a soft rain pelting the house followed by a low rumble of thunder.

Thunder?

She listened more carefully. No, not thunder. It was a horse—horses. More than one. Alaina stood. Panic sliced through her. Had she inadvertently summoned Yankee soldiers—or worse?

She didn’t move a muscle, her hairbrush poised in midair. A mix of dread and shame coursed through her. How foolish she’d been! Because of her, the house was aglow and a veritable invitation for unscrupulous soldiers, ruffians, and thieves. She should have realized it sooner.

She peeked out the bedroom window. By the light emanating from the remaining windows she saw a shadowy figure dismount. She glimpsed the man’s beard when he moved to the hitching post. A second horse had been tethered behind the one he tied, but it was loaded with satchels. The man obviously traveled alone.

A moment later, his face turned upward. Horrified, she blew out the candle. Why hadn’t she thought to do that at once? She let the curtain fall back in place and held her breath. Through the gauzy material she could see him. He stepped closer to the house, smiled, and removed his wide-brimmed hat.

Recognition set in. “Braeden!” Her breath returned.

Dropping the brush, she whirled from the window and hurried out of the bedroom, nearly colliding with Papa McKenna in the hallway.

“Put the gun away,” she said, noting the rifle in his hand. “It’s Braeden. He’s home!”

She ran down the stairs and flung open the front door. He stood on the porch. “Braeden!” She threw herself into his outstretched arms.

He was soaked to the skin, and the pungent smell of wet wool, horses, and leather assailed her senses, but Alaina couldn’t have cared less. With her arms around her husband’s neck, she hugged him as tightly as possible.

“You’re home …”

“Alaina.” He breathed her name against her cheek. His beard scratched and tickled her face. “I thought you were dead.”

“Dead?” Alaina brought her head back. “I don’t understand.”

“I would have come home sooner if—”

He didn’t finish his sentence but lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with a fervor that made her lose her breath a second time.

“Braeden! Is it really you?” Mama McKenna’s shocked tone reminded them they weren’t alone.

“It’s me.” He loosened his hold on Alaina and gazed to where Mama and Papa McKenna and Zeke had gathered on the porch.

“My son … my son is home.”

“Glory be!” Papa McKenna shouted the words.

“I knowed you’d come home.” The happiness in Zeke’s voice was unmistakable.

Braeden greeted his parents with hugs and kisses then turned to Zeke. “My faithful, valiant friend.”

The men clasped hands and gave each other a light embrace.

“I tole ever’one you’d be back fer Christmas.”

Braeden chuckled. “You were right.” He turned to his parents. “Where’s Kirk?”

Papa McKenna dropped his gaze and shook his head sadly.

“No … no, not Kirk …”

“It’s true, son.” Mama McKenna’s voice shook.

Braeden’s did as well. “Michael?”

“Lost an arm, but he’s alive. He left for Texas just this morning.”

“I’m disappointed.”

“He got discouraged, son … like us all, I’m afraid. The Wheeler place is in sorry shape, and … well, you’ll soon see. Our farm was nearly destroyed, too.”

“Things are going to change now.” Braeden spoke with a manner of confidence. “We’ll build this place back up. I’ve got the funds.” He put an arm around each of his parents. “Mama, Papa, I’m going to build you a nice house of your own.” He grinned sheepishly. “See, Laina and I are going to fill this one up with children.”

Alaina blushed, grateful no one could see it.

“And, Zeke, you’re a free man now. You need your own home, and you’re due a plot of land. I’m thinking it’s high time you found a pretty woman and settled down. Seems only fitting that you take a share of the McKenna property. You love it as much as we all do.”

“Yessuh!” Zeke’s wide, toothy smile shone like moonlight.

“You have … funds?” Papa McKenna asked. “Braeden, where have you been?”

He took Alaina’s hand. “I’ll tell you all about it if Mama will make some good, strong coffee to warm my insides.”

“There’s no coffee, Braeden,” Mama McKenna told him.

“Then it’s a good thing I brought some. I brought a sack of flour too. And sugar, butter, and—”

“How on earth did you do that?” His mother’s shaking hand hovered over her heart.

“Bought it, Mama.” Braeden laughed. “It’s part of a long story.”

“Well, first things first.” Papa McKenna coaxed him into the house. “You need dry clothes. Go on and change. Zeke and I will unpack for you.”

“All right. Thanks.” He shook the moisture from his hat. “There’s a lot to get put away, Mama.”

“Alaina will help me.”

She almost groaned aloud. She’d much rather run up the stairs after Braeden, although they had the rest of their lives to spend together.

As they unpacked Braeden’s saddlebags, both she and Mama McKenna marveled at the extraordinary bounty.