In a Stranger's Arms (8 page)

Perhaps the situations were not so different.

“Now, you want to help Templeton and me, don’t you?” he asked.

Varina gave an emphatic nod, sending her rusty mane into a wild tangle about her head.

“Then turn around and stay still. I promise I’ll stop if you tell me it’s hurting you.”

He moved the comb up and down, not actually making contact with Varina’s untidy tresses. “That doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No.” She sounded surprised and a little suspicious. Gradually Manning worked the comb deeper and deeper, always pulling back just before he sensed Varina was about to protest.

“How does that look?” he asked Caddie awhile later. She stared at him as if he’d just withdrawn his head, unbloodied, from the jaws of a lion. “I—I reckon I can braid it now.”

When he passed the comb back to her, she handled it like some magical artifact of frightening power.

Manning tried to keep his chest from puffing out like the old rooster’s. Light-headed with satisfaction, he even dared to offer a suggestion. “Maybe if her hair was cut shorter, it’d be easier to keep.”

“Maybe.” Caddie sounded dazed as she plaited her daughter’s hair into a neat braid. “Run along now, precious. And be good.”

Varina strode over to Manning and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go see about that firewood.”

As she dragged him out of the parlor, Manning heard Caddie call softly behind him. “Mr. Forbes?”

He only had time to glance back and raise an eyebrow. Caddie’s forehead furrowed in a look of intense curiosity, and perhaps a shade of fear. “Are you sure you’ve never had children of your own?”

The question could easily be taken as a compliment and that warmed Manning. But he heard something else in Caddie’s tone that he couldn’t quite fathom.

And it sent a chill through him.

Chapter Five

W
HO WAS THIS
husband of hers? Where had he come from? Who were his people? What did his past hold?

These and many other questions plagued Caddie as she stirred the bed linens in a cauldron of hot, soapy water.

She’d been raised in a society that set great store by a person’s lineage. It did not need to be terribly exalted, just so you knew where they came from and how they fit into the great interconnected community of the South.

Before she’d danced a single reel with Delbert Marsh, she’d known he belonged to a distinguished Virginia family of spotless pedigree. That, as much as anything, had led her to set her cap for him. Back then her family had called her “La Princesse” and she’d had a bevy of beaux that included scions of most every good family in the Sand Hills, and many from the Low Country, too.

Del had caught her eye right away. Throughout the South, Virginians were noted for their pride, and Delbert Decatur Marsh had merited the reputation in full measure. With more than her fair share of that quality, Caddie had always admired men of distinction and presence who didn’t underestimate themselves. Too late, she’d discovered how difficult it could be for two proud people to make a marriage work.

She and Del had both been accustomed to getting their way. As the man of the family, her husband had the full weight of Southern tradition empowering him to continue doing so. Unused to coming second to anyone, Caddie had let her nose get out of joint at the slightest provocation.

Proud folks didn’t stoop to ill-bred bickering. They behaved correctly but coldly. If Del had been surprised or even hurt by the change in manner of his formerly adoring bride, he’d been too proud to ask what was wrong. If he
had
asked, she’d likely have been too proud to tell him.

Stirred from her bitter musings, Caddie looked around her. What cause for pride did she have now? Not her looks, that was certain. The state of her hands and complexion would have scandalized the rigorous mammy of her girlhood. Caddie’s station in life was no longer anything to boast about. These days she worked as hard as any house slave before the war, while eating less and dressing worse.

She was proud of her children, though. Proud of having survived the war and its aftermath with some dignity intact. Proud of her Southern heritage.

Yet she’d married a man about whom she knew nothing.

Caddie rinsed the sheets, wrung them out and hung them to dry. Hopefully a day of April breezes and sunshine would make them fit to sleep on.

Once she’d done the laundry, Caddie tackled the dirt-encrusted parlor floor. With each swipe of the scrub brush, she brooded over all the things she didn’t know about her new husband. Her alarm mounted by the minute.

How old was he? Around the age Del would have been, Caddie guessed. Since soldiering put years on a man’s face, she couldn’t be sure. What schooling did he have? His conversation wasn’t peppered with slang or cussing, like many of the Yankees she’d known in Richmond. That suggested some kind of decent upbringing and education.

Had he been married previously? Was it possible he still had a wife up North to whom he might return after he’d made his fortune in Virginia? That would explain why he hadn’t been anxious to consummate their marriage.

What if he had a criminal record in one or more of the Northern states? The thought clouted Caddie like a physical blow. Scrambling up from her knees, she skidded across the still-wet floor to one of the windows. She meant to holler at Tem and Varina to come inside. After all, what mother wanted her children consorting with a man she knew so little about?

Even if she had been reckless enough to marry him.

The words died on her lips as the sound of children’s laughter wafted in on the fresh spring air. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d heard Tem or Varina laugh. Her son was so timid and sensitive, her daughter so willful. And there hadn’t been much to laugh about in the wake of Richmond’s fall.

Caddie stood at the open window, soaking in the sound and the sun’s golden rays. Almost against her will, both warmed her.

She couldn’t help resenting the carpetbagger for hitting it off so well with her son and daughter. He’d had no business allowing Tem to keep that dog in the nursery at nights, not to mention meddling in her management of Varina. Some rebel spark of fairness compelled Caddie to admit that she wouldn’t have minded the Yankee’s interference so much if he hadn’t possessed such a rare knack for handling her children.

For the moment, though, the tight fist of suspicion and bitterness unclenched from around her heart. It gave a queer flutter, like an uncaged bird suddenly spreading its wings. The sensation felt strangely akin to a quiver of fear.

Manning sat at the supper table mopping up the last morsel of baked beans with a slab of corn bread and basking in the unfamiliar warmth of family. He had to reach far back into his past to retrieve the memory of a day as pleasant as the one he’d just spent. Hearing Tem and Varina tell Caddie of their adventures, Manning felt his heart resonate with a faint, precious echo of their glee.

“The rooster tried to peck Varina.” Merriment danced in Templeton’s soft brown eyes. “But she waved her arms and hollered, ‘Boo!’ You should have seen him run off squawking.”

“Catch that old buzzard try to peck me again.” Varina looked well pleased with her victory as she held out her plate. “More beans.”

“May I have more beans, please,” Caddie reminded her daughter, ladling second helpings from the crock.

Noticing Manning’s empty plate, she refilled it, too.

“I hope you behaved yourself and didn’t get in Mr.—er, in the way.”

For some reason her fumble over his name relaxed Manning further. Apparently he was not the only one ill at ease with their new domestic arrangements. “They were both a big help to me. We managed to gather enough deadwood to keep the stove fueled for a while.”

“May I be excused, Mama?” Templeton pushed away from the table. “I’d like to feed Sergeant and have a play with him before bed.”

“Go on, Son. Don’t stray too far from the house, though.”

“Me, too!” Varina bolted her second helping of beans, then scrambled down from her chair, swiping the back of her sleeve across her mouth.

Before her mother could deliver a sermon on manners, the child had darted away after her brother.

Caddie shook her head. “How am I ever going to make a proper young lady out of that child? If only Templeton could be more like her and she more like him.’’

“You’ve done a fine job raising them all by yourself,” said Manning. “Especially with the war and all. They’re both smart, willing and good-natured. The rest will sort itself out.”

Caddie made no reply, but two bright spots flamed in her cheeks.

With the distraction of the children gone, they finished their supper in awkward silence. Once they were done, Caddie stacked the plates and cutlery then carried them out to the washtub in the kitchen. Manning followed with the bean crock. He watched Caddie pour scalding water over the dishes from a heavy kettle simmering on the fire, followed by cool well water from a bucket on the floor. Unbuttoning the cuffs of her sleeves, she rolled them up past her elbows and began to wash the dishes.

“Can I get you some coffee?” she asked Manning.

“No, thank you. It would likely keep me awake.” That and imagining her asleep in the room next to his. Manning hoped he’d soon get used to it. He desperately needed some rest. His tired mind was entertaining too many dangerous fancies.

He considered excusing himself from the kitchen to go keep an eye on the children. But there were matters he and Caddie needed to sort out so he could get on with his mission. Reluctantly, he rummaged around the dimly lit room and found a length of homespun cotton Caddie had been using for a dish towel. He’d rather have kept his distance from her, but he couldn’t sit idle while she worked.

“We need to talk about my plans for Sabbath Hollow.” Picking up a plate still warm from the wash water, he began to dry it.

She glanced at him with a queer expression on her face, as though he was the most peculiar object she’d ever beheld. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the dishwater, and a faint sheen of perspiration moistened her nose and hairline.

As if in answer, beads of sweat broke out on Manning’s brow.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Wisps of her fiery hair had pulled free of the tightly pinned knot on the back of her head. They framed her face like a copper halo. The creamy sweep of her forearms tapered with delicate grace to a pair of absurdly fragile wrists.

Giant invisible hands seemed to clench around Manning’s throat.

“Drying the dishes,” he croaked. “Is there something wrong with that? I promise I won’t break any.”

She tapped a plate of the cheapest tinware against the side of the washtub. “You’d have to work hard to break these. I’ve just never seen a man take a hand in house chores before.”

Manning shrugged. “Nothing like the army for teaching a fellow to look after himself. I learned how to cook and wash clothes, too, if you ever need me to pitch in there.”

“I can manage the chores on my own.” She released him from the power of her silvery-emerald gaze, turning her attention back to the dishwater. “Were you in the army long?”

“Since First Manassas.”

The plate in Caddie’s hand dropped back into the water with a splash. “I thought up North folks called it Bull Run?”

Manning felt the heat stinging in his face. What had made him refer to that battle by its rebel name? Was he just trying desperately to fit into a world where he’d always be an outsider?

“I guess whoever wins a fight should get to name it.” Manning didn’t need to remind his rebel wife that Confederate armies had beaten Union ones both times they’d clashed over that creek in northern Virginia.

“I reckon so.” She didn’t sound convinced by his explanation. “What kind of work did you do before joining the army, Mr. Forbes? Whereabouts up North do you come from?”

If she’d demanded his answers over the barrel of a cocked pistol Manning could not have felt more threatened.

“What difference does it make?” he snapped. “The past is gone and nothing this side of heaven can change it. It’s the present and the future that matter. Let’s talk about Sabbath Hollow and what we need to do to make it prosperous again.”

“You needn’t get so riled up over a couple of innocent questions.” Caddie collected the dishes he had dried and began to put them away, making considerable noise in the process. “I just thought that since we’re... married, I ought to know a little more about you. Folks are bound to ask me, and it’ll look mighty peculiar if I can’t tell them.”

“Of course. You’re entitled to know, I guess.” Evading her questions was apt to make her more suspicious, not less. “Nothing very interesting to tell is all. I was a woodworker before I enlisted. Lived in Pennsylvania, not too far north of here. Anything else you want to know?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” She glanced toward him, but refused to meet his eyes.

Not that Manning really wanted her to. He had an uncanny feeling she could see right inside him and read all his secrets.

Fetching a broom from the corner, Caddie began to sweep the floor. Manning braced himself for her interrogation.