Heart of Glass (8 page)

Kate had no notion what to say. Thanks to her father she had
escaped the upheaval. In Boston there was a constant bombardment of news, but the war still seemed removed. While she’d lived in Ireland the conflict was easy to put out of her mind as she wandered green hillsides, sat in cozy cottages listening to lilting songs, or romped with her father’s Keene cousins. It was far too easy to forget all about the horrors in America, if not for days then at least for hours.

Yesterday Colin accused her of having a heart full of hope. If she’d suffered all the tribulations of war firsthand, would her spirit have ended up in tatters too?

Amelie stared around the room. “I don’t recognize any of these things.”

“They’re from my mother’s townhouse. She recently sold it and remarried while traveling the continent.”

“Nola remarried? Oh, Kate, your father’s gone?”

“He died four years ago. I returned to New Orleans the minute I learned he was ill.”

“At least you got to tell him good-bye.” Amelie pulled up the hem of her skirt and started to weep into the faded calico. Her hands were red and worn, her nails ragged. Kate reached out and stroked her friend’s limp hair and rubbed her back as one might comfort a child.

When Amelie finally collected herself, she wiped her eyes and turned to Kate again. Apprehension was etched on her features.

“Kate, dare I even hope that Colin is alive?”

Kate had been dreading this moment. What if Colin wanted to turn out his sister?

“Is he here?” Amelie asked.

“He’s here.” Kate smiled to hide her worry.

“That’s wonderful news.” Amelie started to rise and then sat back down. “Unless, of course, he’s angry with me. Is he angry, Kate? If it weren’t for the children, I’d never forgive myself for running off the way I did. But I can’t imagine life without Damian and Marie.”

“Where is their father?” Kate was stymied. Where was the man now? What happened to Amelie since she left? “Did you marry?”

“We did marry in Kansas, but I’d rather not speak of Billy Hart right now.”

“Of course,” Kate said. “We have all the time in the world to talk.”

When Amelie didn’t respond Kate said, “Colin is living in the
garçonnière
.”

“The
garçonnière
? Why?”

“Let’s just say he’s not himself.” She went on to give Amelie the few details she knew of Colin’s reenlistment and his injury. “It’s left him bitter and angry.” Kate sighed. “I tried to help him. I wish I could have done more.” Amelie was in no condition to suffer a long explanation that would only give her more worry. “Actually, I’m all packed and was ready to leave.”

Amelie frowned. “I never even asked why you were here. It just seems so right to find you here.” She paused, considering for a moment before she cried, “You can’t go now, Kate! Please stay.”

“I’ve already overstayed my welcome, I’m afraid, but—”

“Please, Kate. Now that I’m here, I’ll need you. The children will need you.”

Amelie looked around, frantic. Kate saw the room through her friend’s eyes, the missing artwork and vases, the missing silver candelabra and pianoforte. Holes were in the plaster where sconces once flanked the fireplace. The mahogany mantel was splintered. None of Kate’s efforts had yet eradicated the visible signs of ill-use caused by the Yankees and the neglect that moved in after them.

“Promise me you’ll stay.” Amelie broke into another fit of coughing, grabbed the hem of her skirt, bent and held it to her lips. When she sat up, Kate saw flecks of blood on the fabric. Her own blood ran cold.

“Of course I’ll stay.” She would not leave Amelie in this state, not with two children in tow and no husband in sight. Not while there was no telling what Colin might do.

They had all been brought together for a reason, just as Kate had hoped. There was no way she could leave now.

“It seems like a dream,” Kate said.

“It does, doesn’t it, Kate? We were so spoiled all our lives. We had everything and didn’t realize it. Now it’s as if our lives before the war never happened. We’ve nothing left but memories.” Amelie rested her head against the back of the settee and closed her eyes.

“You’re home now. You can build a new life for yourself and the children,” Kate said.

Amelie opened her eyes. “You’ve been kind not to comment on the way I look, but a blind man could see that I’m ill.” She took a shallow breath and a rattle escaped. “The truth is, I’m dying. I haven’t much time left and must know my children will be safe. I hoped my brother—”

Shaken, Kate stopped her. “Don’t talk like that. I prayed that you’d come home and here you are. Now that you’re back, things will be wonderful again. Eugenie, Myra, and I will soon have you well. You’ll see.”

Amelie shook her head. “I have consumption, Kate. The doctor said I’m not going to get well.”

“Who said that? Some backwoods prairie doctor? What does he know?” Kate forced a laugh. The idea was nonsense. She refused to believe it. “You’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

“This isn’t something you can wish away, Kate. Not like the old days when we wished upon the evening star. This is something not even you can fix.” Amelie stared at her work-worn hands. “Not even you,” she whispered.

Undeterred, Kate took hold of Amelie’s hand and drew her to her feet. “We’ll just see about that. Come on now, let’s get you upstairs. Your old room is all ready for you. The children can share Colin’s, since he’s not using it.” She would have Simon bring the child’s bed from the attic for Damian.

“You won’t leave, will you, Kate? If Colin doesn’t want me and the children here, I don’t know what to do or where to go.” Simply walking from the sitting room to the stairs taxed Amelie.
She grabbed hold of the banister as they started up. Kate clung to her elbow, careful not to hold too tight.

“Never worry for a moment,” Kate said. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.” If Colin had the nerve to throw out his sister, then she would find lodging for them all in the city.

The pallet Kate had used when she first arrived was put to use again that night. Amelie was so worn and fragile, so feverish by the time she had bathed and was tucked between clean sheets, that Kate hated to leave her alone. She bedded down on the floor beside Amelie. After a restless bout of fever and cold sweats, Amelie finally slept. Kate tossed and turned, her mind racing most of the night. She had no idea how Colin would take the news of his sister’s arrival, but he would be furious when he heard she was staying on at Amelie’s request.

Her mind replayed the events from earlier that evening. After placing a cool compress on Amelie’s forehead, Kate had listened to her faint whispers as she told the story of her infatuation with Billy Hart, a Confederate enlisted man who walked away from his regiment.

“I found him hiding behind the smokehouse one foggy winter morning,” Amelie said. “I hid him in a crawl hole beneath the barn and sneaked him what precious little food we could spare. He was only two years older than me, handsome and a real smooth talker. I was so starry-eyed, I fell in love with his sunshine-yellow hair and bright-blue eyes. He was bold and so charming that it only took him three days to talk me into running away with him to Kansas.

“I asked Mama for permission but my mind was already made up. Yankees were running all over the house by then. Mama had moved out to the kitchen where Eugenie and Simon were always fussing and pampering her. She was trying to pretend none of it was happening, that the Yankees hadn’t really moved in. She would throw fits or burst into tears, and some days she even forgot the war was going on at all. When I told her about Billy and told her it was a way out for me, she still refused to give me her blessing,
even when I begged her. She wanted me to stay home, to stay here at
Belle Fleuve
.”

“But you went anyway,” Kate said.

Amelie whispered, “I did. I should have listened to Mama. I should have stayed for her sake, but I was selfish and scared.”

“And in love.”

“We sneaked off without telling Mama good-bye. Up until little Marie was born, I regretted nearly every day of my life in Kansas. Most of the time Billy left me home alone with his parents. I was forced to do farm work. They barely eked out a living on their farm.” She sighed. It was a ragged sound. “I’m simply too spent to tell you the rest, Kate, but two months ago Billy was killed in a gunfight in Dodge.”

Her voice had barely reached Kate in the darkness. Her friend’s weakness added to Kate’s mounting worry. Kate finally gave up tossing to stare at the ceiling. She tried to equate the life Amelie had lived in Kansas with memories of the two of them running through luxuriously appointed rooms playing hide-and-seek and teasing the smug French dance teacher, who was forced to put up with the antics of the spoiled offspring of wealthy planters. Together they had dreamed of the galas they would attend after the war, the gowns they would wear, and the handsome gentlemen who would line up eager to court them. One of their last times together, they had polkaed around this very room — the night Kate had kissed a pillow and pretended her imaginary suitor was Colin.

Those gilded days were over now, vanished like the thriving cane fields of
Belle Fleuve
; but at least they had survived — she and Amelie and Colin — and though her own strength was being tested, Kate was convinced they would all thrive again.

U
p well before dawn, Kate looked in on the children in the room next door as Amelie slept on. Sometime during the night, Damian had left his own bed and crawled in with Marie. The two slept holding hands as Kate smiled down at them.

She hurriedly dressed — all her things still in bags and trunks that had been hauled back upstairs by Simon and deposited in the guest room she would share with Myra. Out in the kitchen she found Eugenie piling hot biscuits on a plate for Colin. The cook added a slice of ham steak and slathered it with gravy.

“I’ll take the tray out to him,” Kate volunteered.

“Are you sure?” Eugenie paused in the act of pouring a cup of coffee.

Kate nodded. “I must tell him Amelie is back.”

“What if he turns her out?”

“This is her home too. I’m just so thankful the place wasn’t sold or boarded up when she arrived.”

“That poor child.” Eugenie’s eyes filled with tears. She shook her head. “What’s gonna become of those children when she goes?”

Kate’s fear flared in the form of anger.

“That kind of talk must stop immediately, Eugenie. Amelie is going to be just fine. We’re all going to see to it.”

Looking doubtful, the cook finished readying Colin’s tray in silence. Eugenie didn’t have to say a word; Kate could tell the woman didn’t believe it.

“I mean it now.” Kate fought to reassure herself as much as Eugenie. “She’s going to be just fine. Good as new in no time.”

A few minutes later Kate was standing outside Colin’s door. She knocked gently, and there was a pause before he called out for her to enter.

“I thought you left yesterday.”

“I’m still here.”

“Lucky me.”

She set down the tray. “You are lucky indeed. The most wonderful thing has happened.”

“You’ve decided to leave today and never return?”

“Actually, no. I may be staying for quite a while now.”

“Listen here, Miss Keene—”

“Your sister is home, Colin.”

He went completely still. Kate walked over to the table, pulled out a chair, carried it closer to the bed, and sat.

“Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?” He shook his head.

“Thank you, I will.” She smoothed her skirt over her knees.

“Why didn’t she come to see me herself? Is she too ashamed? Or too afraid?”

“Ashamed of what she did? Or afraid of your reaction?”

He crossed his arms and waited for an answer. This man, this hard-hearted Colin, didn’t deserve her concern or her care, but Amelie did. Instead of walking away as she was tempted to do, she took a deep breath and met his hard gaze.

“She’s worn out, Colin. It was a long, trying journey and her life has been far from easy. In fact, she’s admitted that running off was a big mistake.”

“So now she’s come crawling back.”

“She hardly crawled, and she’s not alone.”

“She didn’t dare bring that lily-livered deserter with her—”

“Her husband is dead. She brought her children, Colin.”

“Children? As in more than one?”

“That’s what the word usually means, yes. A ten-year-old daughter and a four-year-old son. They’re beautiful. Wait until you meet them. I’ll help you walk over to the house if you—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then I’ll ask Simon to help you.”

“I’m not going over there. I don’t want to see them.”

“Fine, then stay here. You know where they are.” She didn’t look forward to telling Amelie that he refused to see her when what she needed most right now was loving care, not her brother’s rejection.

“It’s still my house,” he reminded her.

“Amelie’s too, remember.”

“But not yours.”

Kate sighed. “No. Not mine.”

A
s soon as Colin saw Kate Keene swish her shapely bustle out the door, he reached for the photographs on his bedside table. He stared at the images in the family portrait. He didn’t need a mirror to tell him how much he’d changed. He doubted Amelie would recognize him.

And what was she like now? A grown woman with two children. He hadn’t even asked their names. Ten and four, Kate had said. The girl was a few years shy of Amelie’s age the last time he’d seen her. According to the odious Kate Keene, Amelie’s life had not been easy and her husband was dead.

Was it possible his sister had changed as much as he had?

He’d been mired in self-pity for so long it was hard to think of life outside the walls of the
garçonnière
, hard to imagine Amelie home and living here with her children. Kate Keene was no doubt feeling smug for predicting as much. Did she expect him to thank her for making the place livable?

She’d be waiting a long time. He hadn’t asked for her help nor did he want it now. He had been too broken, and his wounds too raw, to take up the challenge. He should have been here during the war to keep Amelie from ruining her life. Apologizing now wasn’t enough. How could he ever admit he had nothing left to give, no way to provide for her and her children?