Surrender (31 page)

Jerome laughed, taking a seat on the bench. “Well said, sir.” He sobered then. “I’m, glad to see you alive. It was rumored at Antietam that you had been killed.”

“Left for dead, I’m afraid. Alive, thanks to the skills of your brother, Brent. And your sister.”

Jesse glanced at Sydney, who flushed. Jerome studied them both carefully, then rose. “Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m assuming the intent is to exchange you for one of our own fellows, but I pray that you remain our guest for quite some time—creating no havoc on our forces, and staying alive and well yourself.”

“Ah, sir! I understand the sentiment. I will pray for your health as well, Captain—yet pray that they take you off the seas!”

Jerome nodded, reaching for Sydney’s arm. “It’s time to go,” he told his sister.

She nodded. “Stay well,” she advised Jesse Halston.

“I’ll be waiting for your return,” he assured her.

Jerome rather firmly led her away.

In the carriage taking them into the center of the city where they would pick up Brent, Jerome watched Sydney from beneath the plume of his hat. “Perhaps you should remain with Mother for the next several months.”

“Well, I intend to stay awhile, of course, but they do depend on me at the hospital. And nothing even slightly dangerous has happened since that very strange carriage incident.”

“I meant—perhaps you just remain at home.”

Sydney arched a brow, then leaned forward, taking his hands. If her brothers and father banded against her, she was doomed. It was suddenly very important that she get back to Richmond.

“Jerome, when the war first started, women were scarcely allowed in the hospitals. Then we were allowed in—if we were suitably ugly! I was able to be of help because of Brent; Alaina and Risa made their way in because of Julian and Risa’s father. I have to be of some use in this war!”

Jerome leaned back, blue eyes dark in the shadows of the carriage. “Are we any use—or do we just prolong the carnage?” he asked softly.

“We will win this war,” she said, determined to change the conversation.

He leaned toward her, taking her hands in turn. “Sydney, it worries me to see you so close with the enemy.”

“The enemy? Oh, you mean Jesse.”

“Yes, Jesse.”

“He was injured. We treated him.”

“I believe you’re doing more for him than you imagine.”

“Well, we are leaving now, aren’t we?”

“And you shouldn’t go back,” he said softly, then there was bitterness in his voice. “Trust me, it isn’t wise to know the enemy too well.”

Sydney sat back. “Hmm. I haven’t seen you since you became a married man. How is your wife? Other than well along in the family way.”

He was her older brother, and she adored him, and she knew that he would never hurt her. But there was something so chilling in his eyes then that she wished she’d never spoken so flippantly.

“Risa is well.”

“I’m sorry, Jerome,” she murmured. “It’s just that—”

He sighed deeply, gently tilting her chin as her head lowered. “Sydney, I don’t wish this horrible schism on anyone. I am weary of the war. Sick to death of fearing that I am bound to come along a trail one day and be forced to fire at Ian. I am sorry that I have married a woman whose father longs to kill me. And I am sorry that she remains in my homeland—only because she does so in a Yankee port. I am warning you to guard yourself with Jesse Halston. He seems an exceptionally fine young man. His reputation is shining. But he is a Yankee, through and through, and will bring you heartache.”

“You mustn’t worry about me so much, and there’s nothing at all between Jesse Halston and me. He is my patient, I am his nurse. And we’ve Mother to worry about, don’t we?”

Watching her gravely, he nodded. For the time the subject was closed.

Years ago, Jerome reflected, his mother had called their home the Castle by the Sea. His father had laughingly informed her that Shanty by the Sea might be more like it. Jerome didn’t agree with either of them. The long, sprawling house had been built from Dade County pine—exceptional lumber with the capability to defy all
structure-gouging little insects. If it was a castle at all, it was rather like a castle out of a German fairy tale, towering suddenly out of a sea of pines, a beautiful, natural beach as one border, the semitropical forest to the north, the family groves to the west, the river to the south. Though beautifully appointed, it was a comfortable home, with a huge working kitchen inside that sprawled into a massive dining room. There was a breezeway in the center of the home, as was customary in the Southern style, and they’d often held parties there that spilled into the big dining room, and into the parlor and library. Upstairs, there were seven large bedrooms and a playroom. Surrounding the main house were numerous small homes for the household servants and grove workers, many of whom were Seminole kin who came to the house as needed, and earned money to acquire what they could not make themselves from the white traders.

He loved his home. Loved the beach, the coconut palms, the sea, and the brackish river. From the time he’d been a small boy, he’d played with putting together pieces of pine, sea grape, mangroves, oak—any wood from which he could form crude, shallow boats. First, they were to play with in puddles. Later, learning a great deal about dugouts from his family in the deep swamp, he had begun building fishing boats, then sailboats, and then his father had suggested that he go away to school. He was loath to do so at first, because any school was so far away from his family. But shipbuilding could best be learned in faraway places, and he had been sent to Boston, Massachusetts, to study with the masters there, and he had spent time in New York City, Norfolk, Charleston, and Pensacola. It was in the shipyards of Virginia that he had first seen his designs realized, while the
Lady Varina
had been built in England to his specifications with capitol he had earned by selling a number of his other vessels. Before the war—when the
Lady Varina
had been called the
Mercy
—he’d spent a great deal of his income as well to dredge a safe mooring for his ship in the cove along the riverside of his home. Yet, aware that the Yanks might expect him to berth there, he ordered Hamlin to leave him, his sister, his brother,
and David Stewart in a longboat, and take the
Lady Varina
back out to sea.

They arrived to find the property enveloped in a wall of quiet. Beaching the boats, Jerome was instantly overwhelmed by a sense of unease. As they stepped upon the sand, he heard the sound of guns being cocked, and a number of men, Seminoles mostly, stepped from the shrubbery to greet them. One of them, a tall, slim man with an eagle’s profile, smiled—though his eyes remained dark and grave—as he came forward, enveloping the three McKenzies one by one in a tight embrace.

Jerome stepped back first. “Billy Bones, meet David Stewart, a doctor, like Brent. David, Billy is my second cousin or so through my grandmother.”

David nodded at the introduction.

“Billy, what’s wrong?” Jerome demanded. “Has there been trouble here?” He glanced around, indicating the armed men.

Billy shook his head. “It’s a war, and we are wary of soldiers—as you know. So we keep guard. Your father cannot do so now,” he said sorrowfully.

“What’s wrong with my father?” Sydney queried with a sharp edge.

“Your father is well, Little Eagle,” Billy told her, calling her by the Seminole name she’d been given as a child.

“Mother!” Brent breathed, and he turned, starting toward the house.

But Billy caught his arm. “She is alive; your father is with her. He sits with her night and day. Jennifer is here, and not even she can make your father leave your mother. But you need have no fear that you are late, for the doctor Teela learned from in the old war, Joshua Brandeis, is here as well. He always loved your mother. He would die for her.”

Staring at Billy, Jerome knew that he was right. Teela had learned her own gift for medicine with Dr. Brandeis during the second Seminole war. She had never studied medicine herself; women had only recently begun to graduate from medical schools. But she’d had an instinct, which she’d passed down to Brent, and Brent had been sent to spend a summer with Brandeis before he’d gone
into medical school himself. Brandeis had been in love with his mother for some time, Jerome was always certain. And Teela’s regard for him had always been high, though her passion had been for his father. It was true that Brandeis would die for her, but…

God, what was happening? She couldn’t be dying.

Jerome broke out of his freeze, heading swiftly for the house, with Brent, Sydney, and David at his heels. Again, Jerome felt the strange, dismal chill.

“Mother!” Sydney cried out suddenly.

Jerome raced up the stairs, taking two at a time. He hurried to his parents’ room, where he managed to pause, knocking softly before pushing the door open. Brent and Sydney piled against his back, yet they all paused then, once they had entered.

James McKenzie sat at the side of the massive bed where Teela lay, still as death, against white sheets, her auburn hair splayed out in a fan about her pale, delicate features. Head bent deeply, James McKenzie’s fingers curled over his wife’s where they lay upon the sheets.

She was dead, Jerome thought, and a part of him wanted to die as well.

“Mother!” Sydney cried out with terrible anguish, starting forward. Jerome caught her, holding her. James rose, startled, and saw his children. His striking features were worn and weary. “Children!” he said quietly. Sydney began to sob, and as James stepped forward, Jerome released Sydney to rush to their father. He enveloped her in his arms. “Sydney, precious darling…” he murmured. He looked up, and managed a smile. “Boys. Welcome home.”

Jerome swallowed hard, well aware that his eyes were filling with tears. He strode forward, meeting his father’s eyes, falling to his knees at his mother’s side. His head fell upon the bedding, and he felt a burning heat on his cheeks. Tears.

Then, miraculously, he felt fingers brush his hair. “Jerome, my dear, I am quite grateful to be so loved, but please, you’ll distress your father and sister even more.”

His head shot up. His mother’s emerald green eyes were open, though just barely. She’d managed to bring
a smile to her lips. He caught her fingers, kissed the back of her hand, held it reverently. “Mother!”

“My God, Mother!”

Sydney was there, down on her knees, and Brent was on the other side of the bed. They all had to have some reassurance, and still, Jerome didn’t need to catch his brother’s eyes to realize that their mother remained in mortal danger. Brent came around for Sydney. “We mustn’t tire her!” he whispered. “We’ll stay, one at a time. Father, you must let Sydney take you downstairs, outside, get some air, have a drink. It will help Mother.”

James shook his head impatiently. “I cannot leave her. Jennifer has been here, with me, I haven’t been alone—”

“Where is Jen?” Brent asked.

And then they heard it. A squalling, mewling sound. And Jennifer appeared in the doorway, her toddling son at her ankles—and a swathed bundle in her arms.

“All of you!” Jennifer cried softly with pleasure.

“Well, my dear half siblings, meet our new baby sister.”

Baby sister! For a moment, Jerome felt the urge to toss the squealing little bundle right out the window. Oh, God, what the babe had done to Teela…

But then his mother, though weak as a kitten, nonetheless tried to tug upon Jerome’s fingers. He looked quickly down at her. “I must speak with you,” she mouthed. “Alone. Soon.”

He nodded, then said thickly, “Jen!”

Going to the doorway, he meant to hug Jennifer. But he paused, and as he did, Jennifer pressed the new baby into his arms. “Mary, in honor of our grandmother,” Jennifer said.

“Mary.”

He had no choice but to take his new sister. And as he did, a deep sense of shame overwhelmed him. The baby looked up at him with huge blue—trusting—McKenzie eyes. She had a thatch of hair that was already thick and russet. She wagged a little hand before him, and he took it.

He kissed her forehead and handed her on to Sydney. “See what you can do with Father,” he told Jennifer, who nodded.

“Please, Father, come downstairs. Jerome will stay
with Teela while you spend a few minutes with Sydney and Brent.”

James swallowed hard. He was haggard, his hair was long and disheveled. He leaned over Teela, smoothing back her hair. “I’ll be right back, my love.”

“I’ll be here,” she promised.

When the others departed, Jerome sat by his mother’s side, taking her hands once again. Her voice was weak, but steady, and her will was strong. “You need to help your father. Such a brave—stubborn!—man. He needs you now.”

“Mother—”

“I’m going to try very hard not to die, Jerome. But you’re my oldest, and I need you to be the strong one if things do not go well.” She smiled, and she was beautiful, and he thought of how she’d been determined and strict at times when they were children, and yet so wise, always refusing to judge others and doing her best to understand the ways of all men. He felt tears brimming to his eyes again.

“Don’t cry on me, please, dear. You’ve given me great happiness, you know.”

“I…how?” he asked blankly.

“Well, I might have liked to have attended the wedding, but this is war!” she said. “I’ve heard my first grandchild is due well before the suitable interval after the marriage.”

He was amazed to find himself flushing. But then, this was his mother. “Mother—”

“Your father and I barely managed to have a wedding before you were born, dear, so I’m happy that you two have taken care for your child.”

He nodded, squeezing her hand.

“She’s a lovely, remarkable woman, Jerome.”

He frowned. “When—”

“I saw her at Alaina’s house—the night she rushed into the swamps to save a friend, remember? The night you abducted the poor girl. And she’s written to me.”

“Oh?”

“Very nice letters, asking about my health, and apologizing for informing us about the wedding after the event, rather than asking our blessing before it.”