That evening, JoBeth got ready for the ball, with both her mother and Aunt Josie hovering like bees around a favorite flower. Each had suggestions to complement her appearance. Johanna got out her point lace scarf and insisted JoBeth wear it, draping it over the shoulders of her hyacinth blue velvet gown. JoBeth was just securing a high-backed comb into her swept-up hair when her aunt left the bedroom and returned, carrying a jewel case.
“Here’s something that will set off your gown,” she said, opening it and taking out amethyst-and-pearl earrings and a matching pendant on a gold chain.
“Oh, Auntie, they’re beautiful!” JoBeth exclaimed. “But I couldn’t!”
“Of course you must. I’ll hear no argument. They’ll be perfect,” her aunt said firmly. “Here, let me fasten this around your neck.”
Persuaded, JoBeth then slipped the earrings in while her aunt clasped the pendant’s chain. Both Johanna and Aunt Josie murmured approvingly at the result of the added jewels.
“Thank you both!” JoBeth smiled, touching the lace then the earrings with her hand. “I feel like Cinderella in her borrowed finery and jewels.”
“Except it won’t all disappear at midnight!” Johanna laughed.
“Let’s hope not!” declared Aunt Josie in mock alarm. “That set was Madison’s wedding gift to me!”
Downstairs, Curtis, splendid in a dress uniform and polished black boots, waited for her. The gilt epaulets and the golden swirls on his sleeve cuffs gleamed against the fine gray broadcloth coat, the tasseled yellow silk sash a bright slash of color at his waist.
Curtis had brought a wrist corsage of hothouse violets for JoBeth to wear. As she held out her wrist for him to tie the purple and lavender satin ribbons, the admiration in his eyes was open and unabashed. It made her a little breathless.
Uncle Madison handed Curtis JoBeth’s dark-blue velvet cape, and Aunt Josie said with satisfaction, “My, what a handsome couple you make!”
Catching a glimpse of herself and Curtis in the hall mirror, JoBeth felt elated and excited. It was a heady moment, and she needed to defuse it. She whirled around, shook her fan playfully at her aunt. “Oh, Auntie, you’re prejudiced. But thank you.” She slipped her kid-gloved hand through Curtis’s offered arm. Then, kissing her mother, she said, “Thank you all, and good night.”
“Have a lovely time!” her mother’s voice followed them out into the crisp December night.
As they entered the ballroom, which was adorned with a random mix of Christmas decorations and patriotic symbols of the Confederacy and brightly illuminated by candles in brass wall sconces tied with gilt ribbons, the band was playing.
JoBeth felt her heart lift at the sound of the music, the slide of feet upon a floor sanded and waxed for dancing, the sight of whirling colors—cerise, orange, green, gold, pink—and the ballooning skirts of dancers circling. The gaiety of the atmosphere was irresistible. Suddenly all JoBeth’s underlying sadness melted magically away. She was caught up and into it all. Curtis held out his hand to her and swept her out among the dancers.
Curtis knew every type of dance and executed each with finesse. His skill spoke of much practice and social experience. JoBeth had never felt so light on her feet as he guided her expertly in several intricate maneuvers so that she never missed a step. During the first part of the evening, she danced with many partners—with Blakely, Will, Ted, and a half dozen others. Many were hometown boys she knew and had grown up with but hadn’t seen much of in the past several months. Most were in uniform, on leave, or coming or going to some military post or service. Although this was a military ball and had been given to honor and aid the cause, strangely enough nothing was mentioned about the reason for it all. For once in what seemed forever, the war was not the main topic of talk. Gaiety seemed the order of the evening, and JoBeth gratefully entered into it. She found it almost easy to forget what had been constantly on her mind for months. She slipped back into what had once been natural—carrying on banter of a light, silly kind. In fact, she had almost forgotten she was very good at it.
When intermission was called, Curtis led her to a table at which Blakely and Will and the girls they were escorting were already seated. When Curtis and JoBeth joined them, it made six crowded around it. JoBeth knew the two other girls, Trudie Hartman and Flavia Bates. Of late they had pointedly excluded her from the social occasions that previously she would have been invited to attend. Tonight they were conscious that she was accepted as part of the group they were with, and they were superficially polite. However, most of their attention was turned to their escorts as the two girls flirted with fluttering eyelashes and fans, giggling at the twins’ outlandish jokes and flattery. Since Curtis was devoting his full attention to her, JoBeth hardly minded being ignored by her former friends.
When the music began again, a childhood friend, Kenan Matthews, came over from another table to ask JoBeth to dance. She excused herself from the others. Kenan had also been a friend of Wes, and for the first time all evening, she was asked about him.
“I realize how hard that must have been for Wes—and for you, too, JoBeth,” Kenan said when she told him Wes was now in the Union Army. “Wesley Rutherford was the most idealistic, most honest, person I ever knew. Although I disagree with his decision, I admire him for his integrity.”
“Thank you,” JoBeth murmured, feeling her heart swell with pride at hearing these rare words of praise for Wes.
When Kenan returned her to her table with a courteous bow, she found that the other girls had left for the ladies’ “refreshing room.” The three men had been joined by cousin Ted, and although they had all risen and politely acknowledged her return, they resumed what appeared to be a heated discussion.
Curtis was saying, “I can’t see what all the fuss about slavery is about. My father has a lumber mill down home and has about twenty men working for him there, and out at my granddaddy’s farm there are people who have been on the land as long as I can remember and before. They all seem happy as can be. You should hear them singin’ out in the fields—”
JoBeth experienced a sick sensation, a rush of blood to her head. The drastic contrast between Wes’s long, agonizing soul-searching and Curtis’s casual offhandedness about the same subject struck her like a blow. Her fingers clutched her little fan so tightly that she could feel the edges of its spokes.
Just then Curtis, as if aware of JoBeth beside him, seemed to lose interest in the conversation. He leaned toward her, smiling, and said, “I missed you.” Then, lowering his voice and with his appealing little-boy grin, he said, “Let me have your dance card. I’m putting my name on all the rest.” Disarmed, she handed it to him.
Watching him scrawl his name through the line of dances still left on her card, JoBeth knew she shouldn’t blame Curtis for his attitude. Wes had even understood that. Like so many Southerners, he was only speaking from what he knew, what he had grown up with, never having learned any other opinion. Why should she expect any more from this charming man than an evening of flattering attention? With his graceful manners, his wit and good humor, it was impossible not to like Curtis Channing—and it would be easy to fall in love with him.
Back on the dance floor, Curtis said, “You know I go back day after tomorrow. This has been too—” He checked himself, as though he would have used a stronger way of expressing his frustration. “This has been way too short. At any other time that you and I might have met, we would have had a chance to get to know each other better—spend long, leisurely afternoons strolling, swinging in a hammock under the trees, playing croquet on the lawn, going riding. There are so many things I can think of I’d like to do with you.” There was amusement, affection, in his eyes as he looked down at her. Then quite suddenly his eyes darkened. “I hate that we’re missin’ all that, Miss Johanna Elizabeth Davison.” He spoke her full name as though he delighted in each syllable. “This has been one wonderful two and a half days.” His hand on her waist tightened as he circled and then reversed in the final strains of the waltz. “Days I shall never forget.”
The music ended, but he didn’t take her right back to the table. Instead he stood, still holding her hand so tightly that she finally wiggled her fingers to free them.
The orchestra began playing the final piece of the evening—“Goodnight, Ladies”—and Curtis led her into the slow steps of the song, making a slow circle of the dance floor.
As was customary these days, the evening ended with a rousing chorus of “Dixie,” which was finished with a flourish of trumpets, followed by some spontaneous renditions of the famous rebel yell inaugurated at the Yankee defeat at the battle of Manassas.
The Spencers’ large carriage had been commandeered for their party. When they came out, they found the horses stamping their feet and blowing frosty breaths in the cold night air. They had to rouse the sleepy driver, Felix, who was bundled in front. The two girls were taken to the door of the Hartman’s house, since Flavia was staying overnight with Trudie. JoBeth and Curtis remained together in the carriage. They could hear the high-pitched laughter and low voices saying whatever frivolous and foolish things were being said besides proper good nights on the doorstep.
Curtis made no move to give JoBeth more room on the seat on which the six of them had all been squeezed so tightly on their way from the ball. JoBeth did not move either, because she was cold and also did not want to call attention to the fact that they were sitting so close together.
At last the twins came running back and hopped into the carriage, and they went on toward the Cadys’ house, When they reached it, Curtis helped JoBeth down. He then surprised her by leaning back into the carriage and saying, “I can walk home from here. You fellows go along.” Before she could utter a protest, Will shouted up to the driver to go, and the carriage moved forward, leaving her and Curtis standing at the gate. For a minute there was silence. JoBeth hardly knew what to say about his bold dismissal of his hosts and their carriage.
“Did you mind?” Curtis asked in a low voice, taking JoBeth’s hand and drawing it through his arm. “I hate for this evening to end. For our time together to end.”
“You’re to come to dinner tomorrow,” she reminded him. Uncle Madison had issued the invitation before they left for the ball.
“Yes, I know, but he invited Will and Blakely as well, and from what he said, there’ll be a bunch of people. We won’t be by ourselves at all. Funny thing, but I’ve always enjoyed being around people until—well, to tell you the truth, all at once I find I want to be alone with you, JoBeth.”
“It’s late, Curtis. I’d better be going in,” JoBeth demurred, thinking the conversation might be getting dangerous. She pulled her hand from his arm and placed it on the gate latch.
Curtis put out his hand and kept the gate from opening. He lifted his head, looking up. The night sky was studded with stars. “What a beautiful night. I can’t remember seeing one so beautiful.”
JoBeth felt she had to take charge of the situation.
“Yes, Curtis, it is very beautiful, but it is also very late,” she chided gently.
Curtis laughed softly. “I know. My delaying tactics are pretty obvious, aren’t they?” He didn’t seem offended and pushed open the gate. They started up the walk, but Curtis’s step was slow.
When they reached the porch steps, Curtis took her arm, keeping her from going up. “At the risk of repeating myself, JoBeth, I wish I could make this evening last….” He paused, then almost in a whisper said, “I would like very much to kiss you.”
Startled, JoBeth halted, staring up at Curtis. He hurried to say, “I know it’s highly improper, as you may rightly say, since we have just met. Hardly know each other. But JoBeth, don’t you get the feeling that these days, time is telescoped? Each day, each hour, each minute, counts” He paused, reached out with his other hand, turned her face toward him. “You have quite the most beautiful mouth I have seen in a very long time and—simply put, I want to kiss it.”
She was stunned. She had not been kissed in months, and then by Wes. All other kisses before his had disappeared from memory, like figments of a dream. Now this handsome soldier’s request stirred her.
“Since you haven’t answered, I’ll take the offensive as a good soldier should—” And Curtis bent and kissed her very slowly, sweetly. When it ended, both sighed.
“You are very lovely, Miss Davison, and I couldn’t resist the temptation. Say you forgive me?”
He didn’t sound at all remorseful, and JoBeth realized she wasn’t sorry either. The kiss had been gentle, warm, and very satisfactory. It would be silly to act offended. Indeed, to be offended. Curtis was right—the days they were all living through were moving too fast, taking with them the time for leisurely courtships, old-fashioned restrictions of all kinds.
They went slowly up the porch steps. At the front door, he put both arms around her waist, interlocking his fingers so that he held her in a tight clasp from which she could not easily escape.
“Do you have a charm chain, JoBeth? One of those strings of buttons that girls collect?”
“How do you know about those?” she asked, surprised. She didn’t know any man who was aware of the current fad that single girls had of collecting buttons. The legend was that the button last collected, if given by a male and placed on the chain, was from the one you would marry.
Curtis chided her gently. “Remember, I told you I have two younger sisters. I’m on to all sorts of feminine pastimes. They each have one of those chains, and they’re always lengthening them, afraid the wrong fella will give them the last one. Girls!” Curtis chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “They’re somethin’ else. You just never know what they’ll do next.” He paused, then asked, “So then, do you? Have a chain?”
JoBeth used to have one, as most schoolgirls did. But after she and Wes had made their pledge, she hadn’t even thought about the silly tradition. However, not wanting to explain all that, she just nodded. “I confess I used to have a button collection.”
Slowly Curtis released her. His hand went to the front of his tunic, grasped at the double row of shiny brass buttons, gave a hard tug, and a button came off. He held his hand out to her, then opened it to show the button resting in his palm.
“Here, JoBeth, will you take it? Let it be the last one on your charm chain?”
JoBeth was taken aback. She drew in her breath.
“But—but I’m not superstitious.”
“No? Well, I am! I believe in fate, destiny, and predestination. That nothing happens by chance. My coming home with Blakely and Will on this leave. Meeting you. It’s all in the cards.” He paused, took her hand, and pressed the button into her palm. “Please take it. I want to go back to camp believing it means something.”