Rebel (23 page)

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Authors: Heather Graham

BOOK: Rebel
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“Papa!” she shouted at last with exasperation. “Papa, you must come in from the fields and eat! Now!”

He waved a hand in her direction. “Coming, daughter. Coming directly!” he returned cheerfully.

But he hadn’t even looked up. She sighed. He probably wouldn’t come in until she went after him and dragged him back.

“Men! He’s as stubborn as the rest of them!” Jennifer said, laughing. She set down the last of the silverware on the table that sat out on the porch. It was a hot day, but beautiful, with a breeze coming in off the water. A wonderful day to have a midafternoon dinner outside.

Anthony already sat in a special child’s chair that Teddy had carved for him. He happily banged his cup against the wood. Jen smoothed back his hair and came to stand behind Alaina and watch as Teddy McMann blithely ignored the call to supper. “But then again, Teddy at least is quite sweetly stubborn.”

Alaina shook her head with exasperation as she looked at Jennifer.

“Indeed, my father is a sweetheart—but as hard-headed as a rock!”

“Well, it could be said that he simply has superb powers
of concentration,” Jennifer consoled her. “Want me to take a walk out and get him?” she asked.

“No, that’s all right. You stay with Anthony. I’ll go.”

Alaina was glad of Jennifer’s company. She might never see her husband—and at times, it did seem as if her marriage had been a bizarre dream—but since her return home from Cimarron, she had grown closer than ever with James, Teela, Jerome, Sydney, and Jennifer and Lawrence and their baby, Anthony. She’d been home nearly four months. In that time, she’d grown especially close with Jennifer. James and Teela made a point of seeing her and Teddy at least every few weeks. Sydney would drop by at least once a week with Jerome, but Jennifer, whose house was little more than five miles away, came every few days, and when she didn’t, Alaina went to visit her.

Jennifer was about ten years her senior, and in days past, she had looked after her younger brothers and sister—and cousins as well—so naturally, since she had been a young child, Alaina had known a deep affection for Jennifer. Despite all the pain and bloodshed that had plagued her life when she had been young, living among her mother’s people, and running from the white army, Jen had the ability to look on the world fairly. She never judged men or women by their race, color, or beliefs, but loved her home in the wilds because it kept her far from those who did.

And though she readily admitted to having friends in the military, she despised the uniform worn by Federal forces, and always would. Soldiers had nearly slain her when she had been very young; only Tara McKenzie’s intervention had saved her life.

She did, however, love her cousin Ian very much— which she had told Alaina several times, lest Alaina make the mistake of bemoaning her marriage to Jennifer.

They had all been friends before—very close friends. But it was Alaina’s marriage to Ian that had made her family.

Jennifer was tall, with strong, beautiful bone structure, exotic hazel eyes, and a long, heavy fall of lustrous dark hair. Her husband, Lawrence, was a salvage diver who had literally run—or swum—into her in Biscayne Bay.
Lawrence had originally thought of the area as an isolated hell, but through Jennifer’s eyes, he had begun to see things differently. Like Teddy and the McKenzies, he now jealously guarded his privacy along the coast. James had given them acreage as a wedding present, and they now planted sugar cane to supplement Lawrence’s salvage income. The baby, Anthony, had his mother’s hazel eyes and olive-toned skin along with his father’s fair hair. At a little over two years old, he was not just walking everywhere but running, and babbling a mile a minute. Anthony was clever, precocious, cute, and entirely lovable. Alaina enjoyed him tremendously.

Especially now.

Now…

With a sudden swift shiver, Alaina grabbed her shawl from a small wall post just inside the door.

“What is it?” Jen asked her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Alaina said quickly. “It’s just my father—you know!”

“Well, by the time you get your father, we might have more company. Look, I think it’s my brother coming.” Jennifer shielded her eyes from the sun, looking northward along the bay.

Alaina followed her gaze. She could see a small sailboat moving their way, the sail billowing in the breeze, the vessel well piloted and seeming to fly over the water.

“I imagine it is Jerome,” Alaina agreed. “He sent a note with the last soldier who came through that he’d probably be by today. He’s going to sail to St. Augustine soon, then up to Charleston, and he’s going to bring some of my father’s fruit with him for the markets there. I’m so glad he’s almost here. My father is quite fond of your brother—and masculine conversation! I may even get him up here to eat!”

“Hmm,” Jennifer murmured. She frowned. “Looks like lots of company, maybe. Can you see—there, coming around those mangroves. There’s another little boat coming in. Look, it’s even closer. No sails flying—it seems to have come around into the bay from the little inlet there.”

“Maybe a couple of army men or sailors, heading down to an outpost in the Keys or down to Fort Taylor,” Alaina guessed. “Maybe a letter from…” She paused,
glancing at Jennifer. “Maybe a letter from Ian,” she said lightly. “Perhaps we should arrange for more settings and warn Lilly and Bella that we may be feeding more mouths than originally intended.” Bella was their cook, a wonderful Creole woman who had been with Alaina and her father as long as she could remember. Lilly had asked to accompany Alaina south from Cimarron. Being so fond of the young woman who had been so quick to champion her, Alaina had agreed that she would be a wonderful help to her and her household—as long as Lilly didn’t mind the isolation.

Lilly didn’t mind—in fact, she didn’t feel isolated at all. She had been befriended by one of the families of Seminoles living nearby, and she felt as if she had come to the height of civilization.

“Maybe you should hurry your father in, then,” Jennifer said. “I think I’ll get his spyglass and see if I can’t discover who’s coming.”

“What’s the matter? You sound uneasy,” Alaina said.

Jennifer glanced at her and gave her a rueful smile. “There’s nothing the matter—not that I can see. I just got a chill, that’s all.”

Sighing with affectionate irritation, Alaina started down the porch steps. Her father! Indeed, he did take some care and concern! The renowned Theodore McMann was behaving just like a small child. Give him a new tree, and he forgot all about the fact that he needed to eat to survive.

And Alaina was ravenous herself. A wonder—since she’d scarcely been able to endure eating at all as of late. But then, recently her hunger patterns had been in nearly as great a maelstrom as her emotions. At first she had simply been unable to believe what was becoming more and more obvious. Then she had been incredulous, fearful, excited, resentful; then fearful, excited, incredulous, and resentful all over again. Jennifer had guessed what Alaina had been unable to believe.

And today it was time to talk to her father. He’d be excited beyond belief, ecstatic. Since she didn’t know what she herself felt yet, she could at least be grateful to know that her father would be delighted.

She hurried across the spit of lawn between the house and the grove where Teddy worked so intently with his
new limes. As always, when she watched him, her love for him welled deep inside her, and she was glad to be with him. He did need her, no matter how restless she felt now.

Coming home from Cimarron had at first been very strange. In a way, life had been so much the same; she had worked with Teddy, as she had wanted. Taken care of him. Things should have been just the same.

But they weren’t. Things would never be the same again. She had married Ian. Still, so much time seemed to have passed now. She should feel as if it had never been.

But most annoyingly, she still lay awake at night, remembering her brief week of marriage. And when she fell asleep, to her horror, she dreamed. Vividly. Dreamed of his touch, his eyes scorching as they swept her, his hands … so talented.

To her absolute amazement, she missed Ian. She missed the sound of his voice, the feel of his eyes, when they burned into her, or raked over her. At times she actually ached for him, and it was torture to wonder what he was doing.

Everything she had felt for Peter O’Neill had died that day at Cimarron. Everything. It was as if she had worn blinders and they had been taken away. But with Ian, things were certainly quite different. He remained in Washington, where the woman he had intended to marry lived.

She tried to tell herself that she wasn’t jealous, that it didn’t matter. Society allowed men… to be men. It wasn’t just acceptable that they did what they wished; it was expected.

So why did she spend her days in torment, seething, wondering? Was it so frustrating simply because she had no power whatsoever? And worse…

He might be anywhere. And she might be incredibly far from his thoughts, a nonentity to him. While the life they had created together grew within her.

He could forget her, but she couldn’t forget him. The situation was almost laughable. She’d thought she’d had some kind of influenza at first; in fact, she’d thought for quite some time that she’d caught hold of some strange stomach malady she couldn’t quite shake. It had actually
taken a full two months for her to realize that she was sadly naive and almost incredibly stupid—her week with her husband might have been brief, but apparently quite timely.

There had been a time when all she thought she wanted was to come home here, unencumbered, and live the life she had led before. Well, she had what she wanted. But life had twisted on her. She wanted more. She had never thought of herself as isolated before. Now she felt as if the world were spinning away without her.

Ian hadn’t been back in Florida in over four months. But for each month she’d received a letter from him, delivered by a different military man in transit to Fort Taylor at Key West.

But Ian’s letters had been distant; polite and courteous—but nonetheless, distant. It was as if he had realized the folly of what he had done. Being Ian McKenzie, naturally, he wouldn’t think of backing out of it.

But perhaps that couldn’t stop him from regretting it. Especially now, with events across the country moving so fast and furiously. Alaina had received letters from Sydney, who remained in Charleston, where South Carolina politicians broadcast their intent to draw their state from the tyrannical hold of the Union should that upstart Lincoln be elected. President Buchanan, it seemed, was doing little to lessen the strain in the election year, and he seemed to be straddling the fence regarding the oh-so-touchy slavery question. Alaina had even received a pleasant letter from her brother-in-law Julian McKenzie, who entertained her with stories about St. Augustine’s volunteer militia forces and with the lyrics to new songs being written. It was quite true that a good percentage of the officers who had come out of West Point and other military schools were Southerners—men who could ride exceptionally well and handle their arms with expertise, while Northerners were finding work more and more often in factories and offices. But according to Julian, Florida citizens were arming themselves for whatever should come. Indeed, the country was spinning rapidly into exciting and revolutionary times.

Teddy claimed they were lucky to be so far from all that was happening. While most people believed the
country would split apart and both sides would accept it as inevitable since they could not agree on certain issues, Teddy thought there would definitely be war. He said it was the realistic view.

It seemed strange to Alaina that her father should be so certain—and realistic. Teddy was a dreamer. A scientist, but a dreamer, and his fruit trees were the center of all his work. He’d been experimenting with them for many years now, but his new little lime trees were his darlings. As she walked toward her father, Alaina reflected with a certain amount of humor that she was rather like one child competing with many others for Teddy’s attention.

As she neared her father, she was startled by the sudden searing cry of a bird. Maybe it was the way it sounded against the crystal-clear summer’s day; maybe it was the simple, sharp loneliness of the cry. But something within that sound suddenly chilled her despite the piercing heat of the day. She stopped walking and stared up at the sky, alarmed by the sudden sense of foreboding that filled her.

Jerome had warned them to be watchful. And they were careful. Her father posted two men on guard every night. But his workers were in the field now and the heat made them less alert. Even the household staff was moving slowly these days.

There were loaded rifles in the cabinet in the den. Alaina’s French fencing swords were across from it. But she didn’t dare take the time to return to the house. If there was trouble, Jennifer would go for the guns. Jennifer—who could aim like a sharpshooter.

The bird let out a shriek again. The breeze seemed to go still, then crackle with an air of danger.

“Papa?” she cried. It seemed critical that she reach him. She started running.

Someone else was running. Birds suddenly burst into flight above Teddy’s lime grove, and two men bolted from the shelter of the trees, racing south toward the shallows between themselves and the mainland. Their movement was awkward and ungainly. They were dressed in dark, filthy, ragged clothing, and both had long hair and rough, scraggly beards.

Alaina stared at them in horror, realizing that their
flight was made so very difficult because they were in chains. They’d been chained at the wrists and ankles, but had shattered the links in the center, allowing them a certain freedom while they still dragged the weight. The chains clanged and grated as they ran, making a noise that was as threatening as the shattering cry of the birds. Alaina realized suddenly that she had come to a dead halt, staring at the men.

Then she heard shouts, coming from the direction of the bay. She spun around. The small launch she and Jennifer had seen coming toward the islet had made it in. Three soldiers stepped out of it, splashing into the shallow water, racing onto the land.

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