Hearts Under Siege (Civil War Collection) (15 page)

Chapter Fourteen

When they reached the familiar farmhouse, it was like coming home. Sarah welcomed them with open arms. Thomas voiced his refusal to go any further until Alexandra rested and regained her strength. Alexandra glanced at Eli sleeping in the living area—on the floor—as Sarah led her to the back bedroom.

“Is he better?” Alexandra asked.

“He recovered well,” Sarah said. “I expect he’ll be returning to fight shortly.”

Alexandra smiled.

Sarah left Thomas to sleep on the floor near Eli. Alexandra didn’t mention the disappointment she felt…and saw reflected in Thomas’s eyes. On her second day there, Alexandra woke with only a dull shadow of pain throbbing in her arm. As she lay there in silence, her heart raced, and she drew a deep breath as she fought off panic at being alone. A soft female voice wafted from the living room, and a child laughed. The normality soothed her, and she pressed a hand over her racing heart as it calmed.

She got up and being careful of the bandage on her shoulder, she put on her one dress. The dress hung looser now than a month ago, and her longer hair now framed her face in soft ebony curls.

She brought her fingertips to her lip…it was smooth, healed. She glanced in a mirror on the wall of the bedroom and turned her face side to side; an echo of a smudge remained where once a bruise disfigured her. Due to Thomas’s vigilant care, the gash on her arm, besides being a little puffy, showed no signs of infection.

She went into the living room, joining Thomas, Sarah, Cam, and Eli. Sarah immediately set upon her with kindness.

“You’re up. And dressed! Don’t you look human again,” Sarah praised. “Let me get you some cold water.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Thomas asked. “I would have helped you.” Careful to take her uninjured arm, he led her to the sofa. “Let me look at that arm.”

“I’ll just go see if Sarah needs any help,” Eli said, and disappeared toward the kitchen.

“It’s healing up nicely,” Cam announced.

“Yes, I’d agree that it is looking steadily better,” Thomas said.

Alexandra bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. “How is your mother getting along without you there to help her?”

“There isn’t much to do right now,” he said wistfully. “The Yankees took all the animals, and the garden has dried up.”

“I’m sorry,” Alexandra said, touching his arm. “These are such hard times on everyone.”

“Yes. My mother worries constantly about my two brothers.”

“Do you know where they are?” Thomas asked.

“No, well, my older brother is with Johnson, and we don’t know where my other brother is.”

“Johnson, huh?”

Alexandra shot Thomas a warning glance. It was neither Cam’s nor his brother’s fault that Johnson hadn’t come to help them at Vicksburg.

Fortunately, Cam seemed more intent on speaking about his other brother.

“We get letters from John sometimes. In fact we got one just last week. I keep them all and read them over and over. He doesn’t tell us where he is, though.”

“Why do you suppose that is?” Alexandra asked. Most soldiers sent a detailed accounting of their activities, including at least a general location.

“Here we go, nice cold well water,” Sarah said, returning with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of water.

“Let me take that,” Eli said, taking the tray from her and setting it on the coffee table.

“What are we talking about?” Sarah asked.

“Cam was just telling us that he doesn’t know where his brother John is,” Alexandra said.

“Oh?” Sarah said.

Cam looked at Sarah with a raised brow.

“I think it’s all right if you tell them, Cam,” Sarah said.

“Tell us what?” Alexandra asked.

“Well, my brother doesn’t fight for the South.”

“Then what does he do?” she asked, confused.

“My brother fights for the North,” Cam said in a rush.

“Oh,” Alexandra murmured.

“Every man has to make his own choices,” Sarah said, her tone flat.

“How do you feel about that?” Alexandra asked.

“I think it’s wrong, but he’s still my brother.”

“Yes, you are absolutely right,” Alexandra said, not daring to look at Thomas. “What does he say in his letters?”

“He just talks about camp life. They spend a lot of time sitting in camp. He said it isn’t exciting like he thought it would be. He said whenever he goes into battle, he’s always afraid to shoot anybody, because it might be our brother.”

“That must be a horrible thing for him to deal with,” Alexandra said.

“I have friends who fight for the North, and I’ve had similar nightmares. The last thing I want to do is kill someone I care about,” Thomas stated.

“It can be really bad. Do you want to read his letters? Maybe it would help you to understand,” Cam asked Alexandra.

“I would like that very much,” Alexandra said.

“I have a likeness that he sent us. I could bring it.”

Alexandra nodded.

“It has some of his friends in it too. Some of them are even from the South. He’s not the only one that chose the other side.”

Alexandra drank her water but didn’t hear what Cam said as he chattered on. She gazed at Thomas, and his eyes softened as they met hers.

You do not condemn a man for not fighting for the cause. Perhaps because you spent time wearing the blue uniform, and it gave you a different perspective on things?

Could she take knowing that her brother chose to fight against his homeland? It seemed like the ultimate betrayal to raise arms against your own people. She looked at Cam and shook her head
.
You poor dear, how can you stand it?

****

Later that evening, as shadows lengthened, Eli and Sarah went for a walk, and Cam left for home, Alexandra and Thomas faced each other alone in the house. A walk sounded like a wonderful idea to Alexandra, but she didn’t have the strength yet. She had walked around the outside of the house earlier, but it sapped her strength.

Thomas moved to sit next to her on the sofa, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. “You smell good,” he said, “like wildflowers.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to use that balm Cam offered.”

“I admit I had selfish reasons, but I was also thinking of you. Something that vile couldn’t possibly be good for you.”

“That shows what you know of medicine,” Alexandra said, then changed the subject. “Do you think Eli and Sarah will get married?”

“I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.”

“I have a feeling he’s been well enough to leave for some time.”

“He does seem to have no problems getting around.”

“You know what I like least about being here? I miss sleeping next to you.”

“I think it’s probably a good thing we are spending time here,” he said. “If that had gone on much longer, we would have to get married.”

“Well, then, I didn’t realize the ramifications. It is a good thing you got us here, in that case.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Are you well enough to give me a kiss?”

“Your kisses make me better,” she said.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” he said, his lips close to hers. He closed the distance and pressed his lips against hers. Thomas groaned, pulling her against him. As his lips caressed hers, his hand moved to stroke her jaw line.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“A little.”

They enjoyed a simple meal of bread and cheese. They chatted for a while, and then she moved to her bedroom and slipped under the covers.

A little later, as Alexandra lay drifting off to sleep, she listened to Thomas’s and Eli’s voices coming from the living room. Thomas said her name in the same sentence with the word home. She snuggled deeper against the pillow and let his voice soothe her. Thomas would take her home.

Home. The gossamer web of contentment evaporated. Once she made it home, what would she do? Would he drop her off and go about his way? Where would he go? The thought chilled her. In reality, she knew nothing about him. Perhaps he had family he’d return to. Her heart sank.

The candlelight in the parlor faded, and not a sound disturbed the house as the men went to sleep. They had bristled at her idea of the girls sleeping in one bed and them in the other. Men, it seemed, didn’t sleep with each other. Everyone knew that it was all a charade anyway. Eli and Sarah wanted to be sleeping together, and she and Thomas longed to spend their nights together in each other’s arms. Propriety forbade bringing up the subject, however.

Alexandra’s thoughts continued to wander. In that gray area between wakefulness and sleep, a shrieking, bloodcurdling, masculine howl penetrated her awareness. Soldiers in blue surrounded her, their eyes glowing like something evil. They metamorphosed into animals, fangs bared. One of the rabid, howling wolves locked its jaw onto her shoulder, cutting into the freshly healed wound. She screamed.

Her eyes snapped open. Thomas was holding her, stroking her hair, his lips against her cheek.

“It’s all right. I’m here. Shh.”

Tears ran down her cheeks, and she put her arms around him, holding him close as he rocked her. Her deep, rasping sobs tore from her core. She shuddered, her heart racing, and goose bumps dotted her skin. He crawled beneath the sheets with her and held her to him. A sense of fear gripped her. Fear that though he was here now, she would soon lose him. Then, after her tears were spent, she fell asleep with the feel of his heartbeat against her back.

Chapter Fifteen

Cam returned two days later. This time he brought his mother, Abigail Williams. With her bright smile and sunny disposition, she reminded Alexandra of her own mother.

Abigail, with her smooth skin and thick hair, didn’t look a day older than Alexandra. Alexandra suspected from Cam’s manners and speech that Cam’s family came from the educated gentry. Abigail confirmed this by her dress. She wore a wellmade gown of expensive silk, clean but two years out of date.

“Please join me outside for a picnic,” Abigail said. “It’s a lovely day. I made sugar cookies and brought lemons for lemonade.”

As Alexandra watched, Abigail and Sarah cut the lemons.

“Can I help?” Alexandra asked
.
Where did you get lemons?

“
You just rest yourself, honey,” Sarah insisted.

“I brought my brother’s letters and photographs,” Cam said, holding a small box close to his chest.

While Sarah packed the picnic basket, Alexandra gathered up her drawing supplies upon Thomas’s suggestion. She drew in a breath and sighed, refreshed. Smiling, she thought of last night. Thomas had waited until the lights went out and sneaked to join her in bed. Alexandra drifted to a peaceful sleep in his arms. He woke before anyone else and returned to his pallet in the living room. No one had detected their sleeping in the same room or mentioned it if they knew.

“Everybody grab your hats,” Sarah said, interrupting Alexandra’s thoughts. “We’re off.”

Alexandra tied a straw hat on her head and joined the others. Sarah, Eli, Cam, Abigail, she and Thomas all trooped out to a shaded area next to a small pond at the edge of the Moore property. Sarah spread out a checkered blanket for them to sit on. They plopped down and enjoyed a small meal over camaraderie.

After they ate, Alexandra sat against a tree and opened her sketchbook.

“Can I watch?” Thomas asked, sitting beside her.

“Of course,” Alexandra said.

She began to sketch the pond, the surrounding trees, the blue sky, and her new friends.

“You seem much stronger,” Thomas said.

“I feel well.” She glanced at Cam, who held the box under his arm. She wondered when he would let her see its contents.

“Mrs. Williams is nice, don’t you think?” she asked.

“She’s a very nice lady.”

“It’s strange, but it’s almost like she doesn’t belong here. She belongs in the past, when breeding mattered.”

“She represents the antebellum, and that’s what makes her so special.” He reached up and ran his fingers along a lock of her hair. “Like you.”

She glanced down at her worn plaid dress, two sizes too large and tucked in at the waist. “I’m afraid I don’t have much left from those days.”

“Oh, but you do. Maybe not on the outside.”

She shot him an incredulous glance.

“I only meant your dress and the hair you so mercilessly chopped off. It’s grown so that you hardly pass for a boy, by the way.”

She lifted her chin in her most regal manner and resumed drawing.

“There. That. You’ve maintained the things that count. The breeding. The manners. No manner of dress can hide that.”

Her hand still, she turned and looked into his blue eyes. She saw something then that she hadn’t looked for before. He cared for her.

She smiled then set her sketchpad and pencil aside and went into his arms.

Cam returned at that moment to sit down beside her.

“Do you want to read my brother’s letters now?” he asked.

“I told you,” Thomas whispered to Alexandra. “He’s jealous.”

Alexandra kissed him on the cheek and turned to smile indulgently at Cam. “I would like to see the picture,” she said.

Cam’s face fell. “I think the picture would mean more if you could hear some of his descriptions first.”

“All right, Cam,” Alexandra said. “Why don’t you read some of your favorite parts to me.”

Thomas groaned and stretched out, closing his eyes. Cam shuffled through the thick stack of papers.

“This is from one of his first ones,” he said, “while he was fighting for the south.” Cam read in a clear voice, displaying his fine education.

Today, like most days, there isn’t much to do except to sit around and wait. Most of the boys are chomping at the bit to start fighting. They say we should see battle soon. Already, many have died from disease. John Ferriday, you might remember him since we hunted together a few times, died yesterday from dysentery. Not a very noble death for a soldier.

Cam stopped and looked at his audience. “I’ll skip the rest of this part. Franklin gets rather vivid sometimes.”

A warm breeze drifted over the pond. Alexandra glanced over Cam’s shoulder. Abigail knitted socks to send to her sons, and Eli and Sarah sat near her, chatting. Thomas, his eyes still closed, locked his fingers with hers. Alexandra returned her attention to Cam. He scanned the pages and resumed reading.

I’ve had a lot of time to think and listen to the other men talk. I’ve heard some say that this war is being fought so we can keep slaves. We have slaves, so I know that isn’t true. I would gladly have set them all free if I’d known there was another way to do what we do. It would have happened soon anyway on its own. We certainly didn’t need a war to do it for us.

Men are here for a lot of different reasons, but I haven’t talked to one yet who is here so he can keep his slaves. They’re here because they want the right to emphasize state’s rights. State’s rights. What the heck is that? We fought the British to make this a country we could believe in. And now they want to break it apart. You know, I listen to all this bravado, and I just don’t get it. I just wonder what we’re doing.

Cam stopped reading and folded the letter. “This is the last one we got from him for awhile. The next time we heard from him, he was on the other side.”

Alexandra placed a hand on his arm. How did he stand it? Knowing that his brother had abandoned his homeland to raise a hand against it. Somewhere out there, this man was aiming a musket at his friends, neighbors, and God forbid, his own brother.

Thomas sat up now, his hand still locked with Alexandra’s, watching Cam. Cam continued.

I know that you’ll never understand what I’m about to tell you. I realize that and expect it. I do, however, hope you will hear me out and try to allow me this belief.

I can’t tolerate this rift in this country I love. It has to stop. We cannot allow it to break in two. It’s too great to allow such an atrocity to happen. This is America. It must remain intact.

I can no longer fight to allow this secession to happen. We have to stop it. Anything I can do to help put a stop to it, I have to do. Please forgive me. I am now fighting for the North.

In the silence that followed, Alexandra stared up at the puffy clouds drifting against the pale blue sky. A sparrow landed on a branch of the bush next to them, and the branch swayed beneath its feathery weight. After a moment, it darted toward the clouds, picking up one of its friends along the way.

Abigail stood up and began filling glasses with lemonade. The three of them, Alexandra, Cam, and Thomas, sat in silence and watched her.

“I brought you some more lemonade,” she said, handing them each a glass. “You all certainly are quiet.”

“I was just reading some of Franklin’s letters,” Cam said somberly, accepting the refreshment.

“Oh, I see,” she said. “If you get hungry, we have more cookies.”

No one answered, and she returned to her place several feet away on the bank to resume knitting.

“Does your mother know?” Alexandra asked.

“Of course.”

“What does she think?”

“She wants her sons, both of them, to return home safely.”

Alexandra nodded. Perhaps family was most important in a situation like this. She thought of Jeffy and shuddered. What would she think if she were in this situation?

“I’m sorry,” Cam said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s all right. It’s very touching,” Alexandra said.

“Shall I read some more?”

“Certainly.”

He handed her three photographs.

Alexandra gazed at the first photo and smiled at the stern and prideful expressions of the men, many of whom were no more than boys. They stood in two rows, armed with their weapons. One boy had a rifle in one hand, a bayonet in the other, and a pistol and a bowie knife all tucked in his belt, ready for business. The Yankees didn’t seem so different from the South’s own boys.

Franklin, a handsome boy of about eighteen, looked like an older version of his brother with his thick, dark eyebrows and a mustache to match. His lips tilted upward at one side in a daring halfsmile. His knife glimmered, tucked into his belt. Cam’s voice penetrated her thoughts when he began reading again.

Finally, something to break the monotony today. A daguerreotype artist came into camp to take our picture. I sent you one of me, one of the boys, and one of the regiment.

Alexandra gazed at the regimental photograph. A dozen or so men posed beneath a large shade tree with their cannon and supply wagon as props. A lad stood next to the commander, holding a United States flag. Alexandra looked at Cam when he began to read again.

It feels right, fighting for the United States of America. I know you and Mother must think it an atrocity, but I have to go with my heart. My heart urges me to do my part in holding together this great country. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but by the time it goes in the mail tomorrow, it won’t matter. Tomorrow we go into battle. I hope and pray that I will not come facetoface and weapon-to-weapon with my brother.

Cam paused and turned his head away from them. Alexandra swallowed the last of her lemonade and set her cup on the ground.

Franklin, what has become of you?
She stared at the faces of the men in the regimental photograph.

Trepidation swept over her but left just as quickly as it had come. She studied the next photograph. Twelve men stood or knelt in two rows, their faces surprisingly clear and distinct.

She scanned them; then her breath caught in her throat. There, kneeling in the front row, was a face familiar and dear to her. And lost.

Lightheaded, she gripped the edges of the photograph, staring at the beloved features. It couldn’t be him. It was only someone who looked like him. She took a ragged breath and grasped onto that thread of denial.

She jumped up and ambled blindly to the edge of the pond and let the tenuous thread of relief calm her. Her hands shook as she took a ragged breath. She tried to laugh at herself. She didn’t even know if Jeffy still lived, and here she was putting him in the arms of the enemy. Cam’s letters had touched something deep in her.

Realizing she still held the photograph, she looked at it again. Then she noticed the man had something in his hand. Bringing the photo closer, she identified the held object, a pipe. Peering closely, she read the insignia on it. Grand-père had carved it himself and then engraved his version of their family coat of arms—an oak tree and a horse—on the sides.

She remembered when Grand-père had given it to him on their fourteenth birthday. He declared Jeffy old enough to smoke a pipe. If he knew that Jeffy had taken his first puff two years earlier, he didn’t let on.

Alexandra’s gaze returned to Jeffy’s face. Was that a scar beneath his left eye? She drew the photo closer. Yes, there was the scar where she’d cut him with her sword. She remembered the day of the accident, a hot, clear day like today.

It had been the last time she practiced sword fighting with her brother. She never fully forgave herself for the accident.

She remembered trying to cover up her regret and guilt at being so careless, by declaring him even more handsome and distinguished with the scar beneath his eye. She warned him that if women saw him as irresistible, she would have to take the blame.

She shook herself from the memory
.
A prophetic game he and I played…I didn’t see it, thinking he’d fight with the Confederacy when it came to war.

He loved this land and would never give up his home without a fight, but would his heart be in it? Jeffy was not a staunch believer i
n
the caus
e
. In fact, if given half a chance, he would set all their slaves free and give them a plot of land to farm.

But this. This took her by surprise.

She now knew what she would think in this situation. She wouldn’t.