The rumble of stagecoaches, the blare of a train whistle, and the din of shopkeepers calling out their wares on the Nashville street pelted Jake Miles as he rode in his enclosed carriage. He kept his focus on the horses’ twitching ears as they pulled the carriage. They weren’t immune to the bustling noises, but they didn’t flinch the way the man holding the reins did.
The team’s iron shoes clanked against the cobblestone, scraping against the stone sideways as they hit a sunken place in need of repair. His raw nerves reacted, tightening each muscle like knots on a ship’s rope. He concentrated on keeping the panic inside of himself. You’re home. You’re safe.
Glimpses of stores he’d frequented before the war snagged the edge of his vision. He narrowed his lids to tunnel his line of sight, not wanting to see the harsh marks etched on his city by the Union Army or the face of anyone who might know him. He didn’t want to be singled out, called a hero, or asked if he had news of others who were still missing. He had nothing to offer any of them. After his unexpected arrival two nights ago, he had hidden in his boyhood bedroom at his parents’ home. He extracted promises from them and the house staff not to let news of his return be told to anyone. He was too broken to be seen. Broken on the inside where it counted. Once again he wished for a missing limb or eye. If he had something broken to show on the outside, then maybe he wouldn’t feel so much weighty guilt.
Today he’d ventured out among the living, knowing after all this time that he must release his fiancée from her promise to wait for him. She needed someone whole, not the shell of a man he had become. He pictured her golden hair and blue eyes tearing the moment she saw him. She, like the others, thought he was dead. Maybe she hadn’t even waited for him. His stomach reached for his heart, and they twisted together. He hadn’t thought of that possibility. His parents hadn’t heard from her since the false news of his death had been confirmed. She’d been beyond consoling, they told him, hiding away in her home grieving. His own parents hadn’t even lived their lives. Instead, they’d quit all aspects of societal life, including attending church. They’d turned into hermits, facilitated by the help of servants who saw to their needs for food and clothing. He found that disturbing and hoped that would change now that they knew he wasn’t dead.
It would be for the best if Heaven had married someone else. Still he needed to talk to her, see her, and touch her soft hands one last time. Make sure she was all right. Then he could let her go and could get out of Tennessee. Head for the West where a man could leave behind the coward and find something decent within him. If there was any to be found.
If he hadn’t run into Bradford Pickens at a market in Knoxville, he wouldn’t have returned at all. Pickens kept going on and on about Jake being a hero and getting out of the war alive. Jake wanted to punch him in the mouth to stop his lies. Then Pickens said he was heading back to Nashville, and he would let the others know he’d seen Jake.
He knew he had to get back before Pickens did and tell his family he’d survived the war. And Heaven. He wanted at least that small bit of respectability left to his name.
A man waved at him from the sidewalk, and Jake fought the urge to turn the carriage about and return to his parents’ home. He kept going, his last bit of courage growing smaller. His mother made him promise he would see Heaven today. Jake wished he was off to see the place and not the woman. It would be much easier to face the Almighty than the woman he was about to disappoint.
The redbrick two-story house didn’t have the same appearance. The drive was overgrown, but there were fresh buggy tracks. He parked his father’s carriage in front of Heaven’s home, fighting the instinct to turn and run.
The big tree that had graced the yard still stood. A shaft of sunlight reflected off of something in the bark, and he walked over to inspect it. Bullets were lodged in its majestic trunk.
“Yankees shot the tree and the house, inside and out.”
Jake looked up to see who was speaking. A man, one he didn’t know and several years his senior, had stepped out onto the porch. Had Heaven married after all?
Jake said to the man, “They left their mark on a lot things around here.” Including me. “Were you here then?” Maybe Heaven had been spared living through the Battle of Nashville.
“No, the other family was. They were anxious to sell and leave those memories behind. What brings you by the place?” He hung his thumbs on his overall straps.
The other family. Did that mean the Whartons had experienced what he had not? The dark feeling of guilt swirled thick around him. “I was looking for an old friend, Heaven Wharton.”
“They don’t live here anymore. I heard her father lost this house in a poker game to the man I purchased it from. They were gone by the time the Yankees got here.”
Relief snapped the band of tension around his chest, and he relaxed. She was safe and not married, at least not to this man. He was grateful she hadn’t married an old codger. “Do you know where they moved to?”
“Heard tell they moved out west somewhere.” The man’s cheeks sucked in as he pursed his mouth and then spit a wad of tobacco off the porch into Mrs. Wharton’s once-prized rose bushes. “Hope you find your woman.”
Jake slid his hand across the rough tree bark. The last time he’d been here, he’d kissed his girl good-bye and made her a promise. She’d worn a blue dress the color of a stormy sky that brought out the jewels in her eyes. The tears in them made them sparkle. His gut clenched. If only he still deserved her, he’d have run home the moment they set him free. But he didn’t, and that’s what he had to remember.
“Me, too, sir. I’ve some things to say to her.”
Heaven scrambled to retrieve the fallen rifle. She held it and aimed at the man on the ground in case he was fooling her and sprang to his feet. She waited, but he didn’t move. She lowered the rifle to her side, unsure of what to do next. The world seemed to have gone silent. Maybe God had taken her hearing for this awful act of murdering a man.
Angel appeared in front of her, tugging at her sleeve. “Did you kill him? I didn’t hear the horse run off, and I don’t hear a voice. Shouldn’t we go see if he’s dead?”
Sounds of the farm joined her sister’s questions. The chickens were cackling, and the rooster crowed. Heaven let out the breath that had clogged her throat. “I—I guess we’d better see. I hit him, Angel. I never hit anything.”
“Where did the bullet get him? Could you tell?” Her sister’s eyes were wide, and Heaven worried the images she was envisioning were more vivid than the reality.
“I aimed in the air like always and pulled the trigger. Then his hat lifted off like a blackbird in flight, and the reins slid from his hands. Without making a single sound, he slipped off his horse and hit the ground.” Heaven stepped off the porch. “I’m sure I killed him.”
Angel grabbed Heaven’s arm. “I’m going with you.”
“Stay here, Angel.”
“No. I’m coming, too. If he’s dead, he ain’t going to hurt me.”
Heaven’s fingers felt numb, and her legs were as heavy as that rifle in her hand had been. She vowed she’d never shoot that thing again, at least as long as that man lying in the mud wasn’t dead. Maybe she’d gone too far. Maybe she couldn’t handle taking care of Angel and the farm. Maybe it was time to go to town and throw herself on the mercy of the good preacher and his wife—if the man wasn’t dead. “Stay close just in case he’s foolin’ us.”
“What are we going to do with him if he ain’t dead yet?” Angel asked.
“I hope he’s wounded and not badly.” Heaven walked a bit faster, pulling her sister along by the hand at a pace she’d never before used. “We’ll have to tend to his injuries.”
“Then he’ll tell the sheriff you shot him. If he is dead, we can bury him in the back field. That way no one will ever know. We’ll be long gone and living with Pa before anyone finds him.”
The casualness of Angel’s voice sent shivers of dread through Heaven. Had they suffered so much loss that life had become trivial to her sister? She stopped, and with her free hand, she pulled her sister closer, looking into eyes that couldn’t see. “Angel, I was wrong to shoot that man. I didn’t even know why he was coming here. I acted out of fear, and that gets me and a lot of people in trouble. We will try and save him, and if he isn’t saveable, well then, we’ll just have to think of a way to save me without burying the poor man where no one will find him. He might have a family, and they’ll want to know what happened to him. Think about us. We haven’t heard from Pa in a long time, and that causes us concern, does it not?” Please, God, if he is dead, don’t let him have a family waiting for him the way we wait for Pa. She took her sister’s hand in hers and squeezed it. “I know you mean well, little one, but we have to live right. Come on, let’s see what we can do for this fella.”
Annabelle Singleton’s special order for wool had come in this morning. She waited for it to be brought to the counter, excited to get it. She had plans to start her stock of fine knitted accessories. When she had enough made, she would somehow open a shop in Memphis, no matter what her father said. It had to be that far away, where her father couldn’t interfere with her ideas and try to take over, keeping her his little girl. And far enough away that no one would know about her embarrassment.
She’d waited out the war for her fiancé to return, not once even casting a longing look at another man. She’d rolled bandages and thought of William, made sewing kits and wondered if one of them would get to him. She did it all, holding the love of William in her heart. Then he’d broken hers. He didn’t even have the decency to tell her in person. Instead, he’d sent a letter about how sorry he was to hurt her, but you can’t help love, he’d said. When it comes, it comes.
Apparently it had come in the form of a Yankee woman who now bore his name.
She’d decided then and there she would become an independent woman of means and, thanks to her grandmother leaving her some gold, the opportunity glistened in front of her.
“Here you go, Miss Singleton.” The clerk placed the wool on the counter for her to inspect.
She brushed her fingers over the strands. Its softness would be perfect for her project. “Thank you. Can you wrap that for me, please?”
“Of course.” The clerk drew out some brown paper and placed her precious bundle inside. “Mrs. Kirby, I’ll be right with you.”
Annabelle went cold. She hadn’t faced William’s mother since the letter. She bit her lower lip. How could she smile and be graceful to her when her son had broken Annabelle’s heart?
“That’s all right. You all take your time. I’m in no hurry.”
Annabelle sucked in air at the unfamiliar voice. Could she be here? Annabelle angled her body slightly, wanting to see the woman that attracted William enough to jilt her. Had William even mentioned Annabelle? Both Mrs. Kirbys stood behind her. The younger one offered a smile so sweet Annabelle felt like she’d eaten too much Fourth of July ice cream. William’s mother ignored her.
“Miss Singleton?”
“Yes?” Did her voice shake? She’d wanted William’s wife to be ugly, thinking—hoping—maybe he’d felt sorry for her and that’s why he married her. But that wasn’t it; the dark-haired beauty with porcelain skin could have been a china doll. Everything Annabelle wasn’t.
The clerk pushed the package tied with twine across the counter. “Would there be anything else you’ll be needing?”
“Not today, thank you.” The package crinkled in her hand, and she clutched it tightly. Her face felt hot. She had to get out of the store away from the fiancé stealer. With a quick step, she turned and brushed past the two Mrs. Kirbys without a word, making a beeline to the door.
She had to get out of this town. Running into that woman was an impossible situation, one she couldn’t have happen again. It was too painful. William had been a good catch before the war, and he returned from the war with all his limbs intact. Now there were few available men, unless she wanted to marry someone ancient.
And she didn’t.
Taking care of her father had been enough of a warning of what it would be like to be married to someone his age. Hosting parties for old couples, endless dinners, and no children. No, she didn’t want that kind of life. She’d rather make it on her own.
“Watch out!” A carriage went past her in a blur, coming within a horse hair of running over her.
“Whoa!” The man on the carriage bench yanked back on the reins. The horses slowed and settled with a whinny.
Annabelle, numbed and shaken by her near death, thought she had to be seeing things, because the man on the carriage seat looked just like Jake Miles, and everyone knew he was dead.
“Annabelle?”
Odd, he sounded like him, too. “Jake?” He climbed down from the carriage. “Are you hurt?” “Aren’t you dead?” What a silly thing to ask when the man stood right in front of her. But she was so sure he was dead. “No, that was a mistake. I’m alive.”
“A mistake that you’re alive?” Befuddled, that’s what her brain was. Surely he didn’t mean a mistake to be alive.
“Sometimes I feel that way.” He looked away from her.
“Did you just get back? This is big news, and no one has mentioned it to me. What happened to you?” Had he been a deserter reported as dead? She hoped not. The Jake she knew before the war had starch.
“Been here a few days.”
She waited for a buggy to rumble by. “Does Heaven know?” She wanted to be happy for her friend but found it difficult. She’d found comfort these last few weeks in knowing Heaven was unmarried, too. She’d even considered asking her to set up shop with her since it appeared they would be spinsters.
“No. I’ll be telling her as soon as I can find her. I went to her house, but she’s not there.”
“No, her family moved to Friendship in January.”
“Heaven, too? Did she marry someone?”
“No, she waited for you.” And here he was, back like he said he would be, and looking for Heaven. Jake was a much better man than William.
“I’ll need to get a train ticket then.”
Train ticket. That’s all she heard. Could this be her chance to get out of this town? “When are you leaving? I’d like to go with you. I haven’t seen Heaven in so long.”
“No. I need to see her alone, and I’m not planning on returning to Nashville. I’m leaving as soon as I can. Tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
“Then I’d like to send a few things with you for Heaven and Angel.”
“I don’t imagine I’ll have time to wait for you to pack up a box of pretties for them.” Jake edged toward the carriage. “If you’re all right, then I need to get back home. I promised Mother I’d have lunch with her.”
“I’m fine. Please give your mother my regards.” A plan began to formulate in her mind. With her father away on business, she would be able to pull off her escape sooner than she thought. She wouldn’t be able to ask his permission. He wouldn’t let her visit Heaven. She’d asked him hundreds of times since that awful letter came, crushing her heart and her dreams. Surely he would understand she had to get away now that William and his bride had returned to Nashville.
It hurt that Heaven’s dream of being married was about to be resurrected, but she soothed the pain with the knowledge her new dream was about to begin.