The cobblestone streets were silent. Silver stars twinkled over the slate rooftops of the city. Grace was now content, and Kathleen had long since returned to sleep. Rebekah, though, was as restless as ever. Returning to her bedroom, she walked the floor for hours, chewing on Henry’s words.
He said he was sorry. He said he cared for me. Does he really mean the things he said, or is he only speaking the words he thinks I want to hear?
She tried not to be drawn in by the memory of those moments, but she couldn’t help herself. Moonlight had revealed a trace of stubble on his jaw, a firm yet gentle set of his mouth. He had spoken to her tenderly. He had taken her by the hand. Did Henry know how his touch affected her? Did he realize how badly she wished for him to take her in his arms, yet how much she feared it at the same time?
Charm was indeed a politician’s skill, but the way he had treated her tonight was causing her to question seriously the defenses she had erected against him. Henry wasn’t a forceful man, at least she didn’t believe so—not anymore. Not after he’d responded to her temper with gentleness and apologies. Was the selfless, humble nature with which he engaged the children and that he had demonstrated to her tonight the real man?
He had talked of giving up politics, of leaving Baltimore behind. He’d said he would do so for me. Father has never given up anything, for anyone.
Though running away had been a desire of Rebekah’s for years, running away with Henry was another matter. If she were to go to Ohio, or anywhere else, would she find the life, the love she had always dreamed of, or would she discover further heartbreak?
At least here in Baltimore, I have my friends. I have my work for the Freedmen’s Bureau. I have my own family. The last might not be all she wished them to be...but better the trouble you know than the trouble you don’t, she thought.
Sighing in exasperation, she sank to the bed. Hannah had said that in time things would settle, that Rebekah would ease into the task of being a wife and mother, that Henry would learn to be a good husband and father. She wanted to believe that was true. He has admitted his faults and apologized for them. He tells me he seeks the Lord’s counsel, that he wants to start again.
Could they? Who exactly was Henry Nash? Can I risk giving him my heart once again?
By the time Rebekah dressed the following morning, her husband had long since left the house. Kathleen showed no memory of her nightmare, but the effects of a disturbed rest were evident. She was quiet, if not cross, while Rebekah brushed her hair and braided it into place. At the morning meal she showed little interest in her eggs or even the possibility of playing in the garden. By early afternoon, Rebekah had Sadie put her down for a nap.
Truth be told, Rebekah wished for one, as well, but her friends were soon to arrive. Though her unresolved feelings toward Henry still weighed heavily upon her mind, she made certain she was all smiles when the others entered the parlor. Rebekah served the tea and cake and talked of the sewing projects for the Freedmen’s Bureau. Her friends were impressed with the clothing she had crafted thus far and were eager to begin their own sets of shirts and trousers. Needles threaded, thimbles in place, they soon set to task.
“I received a letter from Emily yesterday,” Julia announced as she finished off a seam, then snipped her leftover thread.
“Did she say what she and Evan will be doing now that the war is over?” Trudy asked.
“They are to remain in Washington until the bulk of the military hospitals are closed,” Julia told them, “but Emily says Evan is eager to return to Baltimore. He would like to set up house here in the city.”
“I imagine they would wish to be near her parents,” Elizabeth said, “especially now that they have little Andrew.”
“Did she say anything in particular about the baby?” Sally asked.
Julia grinned. “Only that her stern-faced military husband melts whenever his son smiles at him.”
Rebekah shifted in her seat. She was glad Evan Mackay took pride in his family, but she still didn’t know what exactly her husband thought of his. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this offer to leave politics was simply a play for some grander scheme. But what? she wondered. And in what role would I be cast?
“Are you all right, Rebekah?” Sally asked. “You look rather pale.”
Her thoughts must have again shown on her face. Rebekah inwardly scolded herself. “Kathleen didn’t sleep well last night,” she explained. She didn’t tell who else couldn’t sleep, either. The memory of her husband’s nearness, the tenderness of his voice, made her skin tingle.
“Is Henry home today?” Trudy asked.
“No,” Rebekah replied. “He’s at City Hall.”
“Are things better this week?” Elizabeth asked.
Rebekah felt the heat creep up her neck. It must have shown on her face, as well, for her friends giggled. Her embarrassment grew. She knew what they were assuming. We share a home, the child-rearing responsibilities, but nothing more... Rising quickly, she moved to fetch the teapot. For one quick second, her vision blurred.
I must be more tired than I thought. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice. They were once again busy with their work.
Rebekah refilled the teacups, then moved to shut the parlor window closest to her. A steady breeze was blowing the draperies, one much too strong for her today. She felt a little chilled. Upon returning to her seat, Sally mentioned the trial of Mary Surratt. Apparently she had been following the newspapers, as well.
“Do you think she really is guilty of conspiring to assassinate the president?” Rebekah asked.
“I don’t know whether she is or not,” Elizabeth said, “but David tells me they are holding her in the most deplorable conditions, that the cell is barely habitable.”
“Has he seen her?” Julia asked.
“No, but a source where she is being held says conditions are filthy. David thinks they are treating her that way on purpose, to make an example of her.”
Rebekah did not comment on any of the discussion. The topic hit all too close to home. To think that Henry married her in the first place to escape the possibility of similar prison conditions was positively nauseating.
And yet, she couldn’t help but think, if he hadn’t, I would still be in my father’s home. I wouldn’t be hosting the sewing circle, and I would never have known Grace and Kathleen.
“Did they ever release the actors from the theater?” Sally asked. “I heard they were holding them, as well.”
“All but one,” said Elizabeth. “Although I believe he is a stagehand.”
Rebekah tried to steer the conversation in another direction. “I’m surprised you were able to join us today,” she said to Elizabeth. “I thought you’d be busy at the paper.”
“Actually, I must head back there soon.”
“Another interview?” Rebekah asked.
“No. The editor has called a staff meeting.”
“And how is your Mr. Carpenter?” Sally asked.
“Oh, he’s not my Mr. Carpenter,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “He’s Trudy’s.”
All eyes immediately turned to Elizabeth’s now red-faced twin sister. Even Rebekah was curious.
“Are you courting?” she asked.
“No,” Trudy said quickly.
“But she hopes to be soon,” Elizabeth teased.
She, Julia and Sally giggled. Rebekah did not. The last thing she found humor in now was potential romance. Be careful, she wanted to tell Trudy. He may not be all he appears to be. Be certain you find out who he really is before you agree to anything.
“I never said I wished for Peter Carpenter to come calling,” Trudy insisted.
“You didn’t have to,” Elizabeth said. “It’s been written all over your face since the moment you started working at the paper.”
“Are you an artist now, as well?” Rebekah asked, again hoping to nudge the conversation in a more comfortable direction.
“Oh no, nothing like that,” Trudy said. “I have no talent for such things. I’m a proofreader. I’ve been working one day a week, just to help them.”
“Them or him?” Julia teased.
Blushing once more, Trudy owned up to what was now obvious to everyone in the room. “Well... I suppose...both.”
A round of laughter ensued. Rebekah’s throat, however, felt tight. In fact, it had been that way all afternoon.
“Rebekah, are you certain you are all right?” Sally asked. “You don’t look well at all.”
“I know what’s wrong with her,” Julia quickly answered. “I can tell by the look on her face.” She turned to Rebekah. “Have you called yet upon my father?”
Rebekah blinked. Your father is a physician. Why should I call upon him? Had Dr. Stanton some concoction for wiping away the pain of the past? Had he a prescription that enabled one to discern truth? She glanced about the room. Knowing looks and smiles passed over the faces of her other friends. She realized what they were thinking.
“No...” Rebekah said, quickly shaking her head, “No. It’s not that—it isn’t possible.”
“You’ve been married now for more than a month,” Julia observed. “It is possible.”
“No,” Rebekah insisted. “It is not.”
At that, Julia only laughed. “What do you think, Elizabeth? Will there be a future city councilman or a gracious hostess of society?”
Blood was coursing through Rebekah’s ears, thudding so loudly it surely must be heard by everyone in attendance. She didn’t think her throat could get any tighter, but it had.
“Hush, Julia,” Elizabeth chided. “Can’t you see you’re embarrassing her?”
“Am I?” Julia asked as if the thought had never occurred to her. “I’m sorry, Rebekah. I’m just happy for you.”
You shouldn’t be. “Julia, I am not with child.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you certain?”
A forceful knock sounded upon the front door. Anxious to put this particular conversation to rest, Rebekah hurried to answer it before James could reach the foyer. She should have let the man attend to the matter, however, for Rebekah was not at all prepared to receive the guest who stood before her.
Cold dread washed over her. “F-father,” she stammered, “what a surprise.”
Chest out, jaw sharp, he glared at her. “I am here to see your husband,” he said.
Rebekah swallowed hard. Why? “I-I’m afraid he isn’t here.”
Theodore Van der Geld’s frown deepened. That all too familiar chill seized her again.
Noticing James, her father pushed past her and commanded him, “Fetch me a sheet of paper and an envelope. I wish to leave the councilman a note.”
James did as he was told. Rebekah watched in horror as her father then strode toward the parlor, only to stop at the threshold when he beheld her friends.
“Well, I see you are frittering away your time as usual,” he said to her.
We aren’t frittering, she wanted to say. We are helping the freedman. We are doing important work! Work you would surely be proud of if only you would take the time to notice!
“Ladies, that is all for today,” he said, as if he owned the house.
Not one of her friends moved. They simply looked to her.
Stay! Rebekah wanted to say. This is my house. Not his! But the expression of absolute authority on her father’s face kept her silent. She knew what would happen if she crossed him. She dared not have her friends witness it.
James returned then with paper and ink.
“Never mind,” her father said to him. “I will wait for the councilman’s return.”
Her father waved James away, but the man hesitated. She saw the concern on his face. Do you wish to dismiss me? he seemed to be asking. She wanted to tell him to throw the man out, but what authority could a freed slave assert over a state legislator? She could not put James in such a position.
Rebekah nodded, tried to smile. “Thank you, James. We won’t be needing a letter after all.”
He nodded to her and turned to go. Her father was now glaring at her friends. Not one of them had ventured to close her sewing basket, so he stepped into the parlor to encourage them to do so.
“I’ll wait here for your husband’s return,” he told Rebekah as he commandeered the chair in which she had been sitting.
The women looked at her the same way James had, all except Julia. Rebekah spied the scowl on her face.
No, Julia. Don’t say anything. It will only make things worse.
At that moment, the front door opened. Rebekah turned to see Henry stepping into the foyer. The tension within her mounted.
“I d-did not except you home s-so soon,” she stammered.
He laid his hat and gloves on the table. “We adjourned early.”
She wondered if her friends could hear the unsteadiness in her voice. It was bad enough to have her father interrupt their gathering and reveal his disdain for her. Now her friends would once again witness the strained relations between her and her husband.
She moved toward the front door so she would at least be out of their view. Henry thought she was coming to greet him personally. He smiled at her. “How goes the sewing circle?”
He brushed her arms lightly with his hands, as if he was seeing if she would welcome an embrace. Rebekah shivered at his touch, embarrassed once more by Julia’s speculation of pregnancy, further disconcerted by her own conflicted heart. She wanted to trust her husband. She wanted to be sheltered, especially right now.
She could hear her father’s heavy footsteps approaching.
“Councilman. I wish to speak with you.”
Rebekah did not turn to face him. She was too busy watching her husband’s reaction. Henry’s look hardened. “Delegate Van der Geld.” He then looked back at her. “Are your friends still here?”
“Y-yes.”
“Councilman—”
Henry held up his hand. “One moment, Delegate.”
Fear chilled Rebekah’s spine. Snatching her hand, Henry led her to the parlor.
“Ladies,” he said, “forgive me for not greeting you sooner. How good to see you again. I trust all is well.”
Rebekah’s heart was beating rapidly. What would her friends do now? What would her father do?
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “We are well, and we were just leaving.”
“Oh?” Henry looked back at Rebekah, then again to her friends. “You don’t have to go on my account. Stay. Finish your work.”
She felt him squeeze her hand. She knew what he was expecting. He was expecting her to follow his lead. But at this point Rebekah didn’t wish for anyone to stay. She tried her best to keep her composure, to formulate some sort of response to her friends, but her mortification at her father’s rudeness toward them and now Henry’s handling of the situation was so great, she couldn’t find the words.
“Thank you,” Sally said sweetly, “but you’ve obviously much to which you must attend. We should go.”
Rebekah nodded her approval, tried to smile. The moment she did so, Henry let go of her hand. He bid the ladies a good day. His tone toward them was pleasant, but she knew he was angry with her. She hadn’t followed his instructions. She chanced a glance behind her. Her father looked just as angry, even though she had followed his.
The women gathered their sewing supplies and headed toward the door. Julia hugged her before leaving.
“I’m sorry for teasing you so,” she whispered.
“It’s all right,” Rebekah managed, for Julia’s gentle needling had disturbed her far less than what had followed.
“We’ll meet again next week,” Julia insisted. Rebekah did her best to offer Julia a smile. Then she shut the door behind her.
James had already seen to Henry’s gloves and hat, so Rebekah quietly moved toward the staircase, intent on looking in on Grace and Kathleen. Her stomach was churning. Her head was pounding. All she wanted to do was escape the presence of her father and her husband before whatever battle they were intent on having commenced.
Henry called for her. “Rebekah, come here, please.”
She froze, sucked in a breath. She didn’t want to go anywhere near that parlor.
“Rebekah?” Henry was now standing in the entryway.
She reluctantly returned. “Y-yes?”
Her husband drew her up beside him. Rebekah instinctively resisted at first, but gave in. Across the room, her father had reclaimed her chair. He looked like a king on his throne.
“Now, Delegate,” Henry said. “What is so urgent that you thought it necessary to disrupt my wife’s charitable activities?”
The tone with which he spoke made Rebekah cringe. What is he doing? She’d never heard anyone speak to her father in such a way before. No man dared think himself entitled to speak to him—much less scold him—as an equal.
Her father certainly seemed to take offense at Henry’s tone. Standing, he puffed out his chest. His eyes narrowed. “I have come, Councilman, to solicit your presence for an upcoming campaign rally.”
“Yours?” Henry asked.
“Yes.”
Rebekah held her breath as they stared at one another. She wanted to flee from this showdown of authority. Henry, however, kept hold of her. Why are you so intent on keeping me here? What is it you want from me?
“I will not be attending your rally, Delegate Van der Geld.”
Rebekah gasped.
Her father was equally surprised. “You won’t?”
“No,” Henry said firmly. “I do not appreciate you coming here and—”
“Councilman, if I were you—”
“You are not me, sir, and—”
Henry did not have the opportunity to finish the sentence, for Sadie then stormed into the room. Her cry spilt the charged air like lightning. “Mr. Henry! Miss Rebekah! Come quick!”
Rebekah’s heart dropped from her throat to the pit of her stomach. A mother’s instinct told her something was the matter with one of the children. Henry knew, as well. The look on his face instantly changed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s Miss Kathleen. She’s burnin’ up with fever!”
Rebekah raced toward the staircase. Sadie followed close behind. All determination to do battle with her father apparently evaporated, for the last thing she heard Henry say was, “Sir, I am confident you can see your way out of my house.”
Then he came charging up the stairs, as well.