The next afternoon, JoBeth, dressed in the dark-blue riding habit she had borrowed from Amelia, stood at the parlor window, waiting for Curtis. Since last night, she’d had all sorts of second thoughts about going riding with him. First of all, she worried that by accepting, she might have given him some kind of false hope, given him reason to think she might have changed her mind. After all, he had proposed to her. Secondly—and this was what bothered her most—she wondered if she was being disloyal to Wes. Perhaps it would have been more honest to have somehow found a private moment the night before and simply refused Curtis’s invitation. Well, it was too late now. Whatever happened, she had to go through with it.
Just then she saw Curtis, on horseback, looking splendid in his gray tunic, sporting a black felt hat with a jaunty plume, coming around the corner. He had another horse, a sleek, cinnamon-colored mare wearing a sidesaddle, on a lead. In spite of herself, JoBeth’s heart beat a little faster.
She heard the doorbell ring, footsteps along the hall, the door opening, then Amelia’s lilting voice greeting Curtis. Next Delilah came to the parlor door.
“Miss Davison, yo’ genemun is here to fetch you.”
“Thank you, I’ll be right there,” she replied. Nervously she pulled on her leather riding gloves.
Taking a deep breath, JoBeth hooked her riding skirt to the loop on the side and went out into the hall, where Curtis was waiting. She couldn’t miss his pleasure at seeing her. His eyes shone, his mouth lifted in a broad smile.
“Ready to ride?” he asked.
Amelia beamed at them both, like an approving mother. “I think it’s just delightful you’re taking JoBeth out into the countryside, Captain. It will do her a world of good—and you too, I’ve no doubt.” As they went out the door together, she called after them, “Have a lovely time now, do.”
JoBeth stepped up on the mounting block at the curb while Curtis held her horse’s bridle. He assisted her into the sidesaddle, then handed her the reins. As he affectionately patted the horse’s neck, he said, “Easy now, Zephyr has a sensitive mouth. You’ll do just fine together.”
Satisfying himself that she was comfortably settled, Curtis swung up onto his own horse, a feat he accomplished smoothly, even with his one arm still in the sling. They started off at a walk, then moved into a trot further along. There were other riders out, mostly men in uniform who saluted Curtis. He returned their salute smartly with his good arm while holding the reins loosely with the other. What horsemanship, JoBeth thought admiringly. Surely Curtis was as at home in a saddle as he would have been in a rocking chair on somebody’s porch.
He had been right about Zephyr—an easy ride, a gentle mount. It took only the slightest touch of her rein or pressure of her knee to guide her.
Curtis looked at JoBeth, smiling, and pointed ahead. “We take a right turn down here at the crossroads.”
Following Curtis, she soon found herself away from the main thoroughfare and on a beautiful stretch of road. All along the roadside, Queen Anne’s lace and wild purple asters bloomed. The day was pleasantly warm but had lost the humidity of the last week. In fact, JoBeth sensed a hint of fall in the air.
She was riding alongside Curtis now, as there was no other traffic in the road. He glanced over at her with such open admiration that it sent a blush soaring into her cheeks and she had to turn away. Only a minute later Curtis reached for her bridle and brought both their horses to a stop.
“I can’t help it, JoBeth. I could hardly sleep last night, thinking of what a happy chance seeing you again was. Remember, I believe in destiny. I told you that last Christmas.”
JoBeth started to protest, but he shook his head and went on, saying, “I’ve never gotten over you. I’ve thought of you ever since—since I left you at the train station in Hillsboro. Thought about if we’d had more time, how things might have been different—”
“Please, Curtis, stop.” JoBeth put up her hand as if to stem the flow of words. “Don’t go on—”
“It’s no use, JoBeth. Can’t you admit that the two of us meeting again has some meaning?”
“I can’t listen to this, Curtis. Please. Nothing’s changed. The only reason I came out with you today was because I felt I had to try to make you understand.”
“Understand what? I can’t help loving you. What could you possibly say or do to change that?”
“I told you in Hillsboro and I’m telling you now, Curtis. There’s someone else. I’m pledged to someone else.” He had to know, she had to tell him, so she rushed on, explaining, “Last evening you asked me what I was doing in Richmond. Curtis, I’m here to meet him.”
There. It was out, she’d said it. She watched for his reaction.
“He’s a soldier, then.” It was more a statement than a question.
“Yes,” she nodded. Her breath was shallow, her heart pounding. He didn’t need to know more. She prayed he wouldn’t ask for details. Like information about his regiment, or what his commanding officer’s name was.
Curtis frowned and stared over his horse’s head at some distant point. Then slowly he turned back to her. A smile parted his lips under the mustache, showing a glimpse of his even, white teeth. He spoke softly, almost jokingly.
“Well, all’s fair in love and war, isn’t it? Even if I’m competing with a fellow soldier. I’m here and he isn’t—at least not yet. Don’t I have a chance to plead my case, try to win you?”
“There’s no contest, Curtis,” she said seriously. “This is someone I’ve known and loved most of my life.”
“There’s love, and there’s being in love,” he reminded her, still smiling. “Do you know the difference?”
She blushed. Had he read her mind? Had he somehow been aware that in spite of herself, she had felt excited, breathless, a little dizzy, at seeing him last evening? Had she inadvertently given him encouragement?
He leaned over, and she shrank back in her saddle, afraid he was going to touch her. The horses were getting fidgety at being held still.
“What are you frightened of, JoBeth? Your own feelings?”
“Of course not!” she said indignantly. Then she said firmly, “If you are going on like this, Curtis, we’d better turn around and go back.”
He lifted his hand from her horse’s bridle immediately.
“No, I apologize. I want us to go on. There’s a spot up here I want you to see. It’s by a stream, and the horses can get a drink and we can … talk.” He flicked his reins, and his horse started off. Zephyr was glad to follow. The winding road, bordered with trees that were golden with the first touch of autumn, stretched before them. Enjoying her mount’s easy gait and the beauty of the Indian summer afternoon, JoBeth relaxed a bit.
When Curtis left the road to go down a grassy path, she turned her horse in the direction he was heading. She soon found herself in a glade where willows bent over a rushing stream. Curtis dismounted and led his horse to drink. JoBeth did the same. Everything seemed stilled. The sounds of the busy city had been left far behind. A light breeze rustled the willow branches, and there was a scent of pine and of sun-warmed wildflowers. They sat down on a fallen log overlooking the stream, where sunshine glistened on the water as it rushed quietly over the rocks. For a few minutes the serenity of the place seemed to envelop them.
Feeling warm, JoBeth took off the riding hat and untied the attached velvet snood. She shook out her hair from where it had been clubbed under the net and lifted it to cool off the back of her neck.
“It’s lovely here!” she sighed contentedly.
“I thought you’d like it,” Curtis said. “I discovered it one of the first days they let me ride. A respite from the pandemonium of the hospital.”
They sat there listening to the woodland sounds—an insect buzzing among the ferns, the sound of a woodpecker. At length Curtis broke the silence.
“Peaceful, isn’t it? Hard to believe that a few miles from here, men are killing each other.” The edge of bitterness in his voice startled JoBeth. She glanced at him. His expression was grave. He reached over and took her hand.
“That’s why every moment counts, JoBeth. Time is so important now. None of us knows how much we’ve got, what the future holds, or even if we have a future.”
JoBeth gazed at him, wide-eyed. In a flash of insight, she realized she had been wrong about Curtis Channing. He wasn’t as shallow or unthinking as she had assumed. Or at least he’d changed since Christmas. Then he hadn’t seen battle. It had all been an adventure he was embarking upon. Since then he’d fought and been wounded, seen it all firsthand. He knew what war was all about now, when he hadn’t before.
His fingers tightened around her hand. “That’s why telling you that I love you seemed important to me, JoBeth. I know that this man you say you love and are pledged to is a soldier, and maybe I should have some loyalty, some respect for that. But right now I’m here and he isn’t and you’re not sure, can’t be sure, if he’ll come—ever. He has just as much chance of getting killed as I do or anybody does.” The pressure on her hand increased. “I’m sorry. I know I promised not to say any more, didn’t I? It was a promise I shouldn’t have made, one you shouldn’t have asked for. Because I do love you, JoBeth. I don’t think I ever really knew what love was until I met you.”
“Oh, Curtis, love is so much more than what you’re feeling now.” JoBeth halted, then, daring to be truthful said, “Or even what I’m feeling. The reason I asked you to promise is because the person, the solider, I’m waiting for, who I’m here in Richmond to meet, deserves more than this—he deserves my loyalty to our pledge. So please understand.” Her tone was pleading. “I know you’re an honorable man. That you value honor. Honor my asking you not to say any more.”
“That’s the hardest thing anyone’s ever asked me to do,” he said, looking directly into her eyes for a long time. Then he raised her hand, turned it over, and kissed her wrist. His lips were warm on her skin, and in spite of the sun on her back, she shivered.
Curtis released her hand, then stood up. “I’ll get the horses. You’re right—we’d better go back.”
He held her stirrup while she remounted. But when she leaned forward to give Zephyr a reassuring pat, Curtis placed his hand on hers. From her saddle, she looked down into his upturned face and saw such unabashed love there that it took her breath away. She withdrew her hand from under his, and he made the pretense of arranging the edge of her skirt over her boot.
“I shall try to keep my promise not to speak of it, JoBeth, but I cannot stop loving you.” Curtis moved over to his own horse and mounted.
They rode back into town side by side, not speaking, but every so often JoBeth felt his eyes upon her and was irresistibly drawn to turn and meet his gaze.
Back at the Brookes’ home, upstairs in her bedroom, she took off the riding outfit, thinking, I should never have gone. What has come over me? What am I doing? Whatever it is, it’s dangerous. Of course Curtis is attractive, of course his obvious, adoring attention is flattering. But it isn’t right. It isn’t right for me to enjoy it. I shouldn’t allow it. She closed her eyes and put her balled fists up to her temples, pounded them lightly.
It’s only because I miss Wes so terribly. It’s been so long! It’s Wes I love, Wes I want. To substitute what Curtis is willing to give would be betrayal, nothing less.