A pounding on the the door made Amanda scurry. The hammering reached a crescendo before she reached it. Yankees? Confederates? She cracked the door open.
Alice burst through.
“Good heavens, Alice. What’s got you so fired up?”
Tumbling from their pins, Alice’s locks were in disarray, and she trembled. “Amanda, I need your help.”
Amanda hung her sister’s cloak on a peg near the door. “Come in by the fire and warm yourself.”
In the parlor, Alice held out her hands to the flames and closed her eyes as if collecting her thoughts.
“What’s wrong, Alice?”
Wringing her hands, Alice took a deep breath. “Mama’s sick, and Wil and Sam are going to kill one another.”
Amanda raised a hand for her to slow down. “Start at the beginning. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
Alice gulped another breath. “Wil didn’t want to make any more supply runs. He said there were too many risks, but Mama got sick. Amanda, I was the one responsible for the missing medicine at the hospital.”
Her little sister—stealing supplies? How could she—after all of the warnings? Amanda suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She had witnessed all of the telltale signs but refused to believe.
“Wil’s caution was justified,” Alice continued. “Yankees followed me to the shack in the bottomland. He thought one was Sam.”
Amanda gasped. “Alice, how could you? On my land! I warned you that running supplies was dangerous.”
“Wil took the worst risks.”
“That’s supposed to comfort me! For all you know, he could be dead! And if Sam—”
“Amanda, I’m not asking you to believe in what I have done. I’m asking for your help in heading off a fight. Both of them will listen to you.”
“They were friends before the war. That should help them see beyond the uniforms.” Her stomach gurgled in its queasiness, and she massaged her rounding abdomen. “Alice, you said Mama is sick?”
“Influenza. We needed medicine.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Because Holly Prescott knew I was smuggling. I thought by the time I got through the questions, Mama might die.”
“So you risked other lives as well? Why I have a good mind to—”
“Spare me the lecture.” Alice raised a hand in protest, then lowered it again. “Oh what’s the use? Everything makes sense when you do it, even if it’s marrying a damn Yankee.”
“Alice,” Amanda hissed.
“What Amanda? You can blind yourself as much as you like, but it doesn’t change the fact that Yankees have invaded our land. None of this would have been necessary if they hadn’t.”
“You’ll not speak that way in my household.”
“Fine. Listen to the truth when it comes to slavery, but pretend you don’t hear it when the Yankees chant they ‘ain’t fightin’ for no nigger.’ ”
Alice turned, but Amanda grasped her forearm. “Alice, let’s not quarrel. I don’t ignore the truth—wherever it comes from, but Sam’s not like that. He wouldn’t wage war on innocent civilians, and do you seriously think I would have married him if he were the type who would?”
Sheepish, Alice faced her and returned to the warmth of the fire. “So what do we do?”
“Wait. Sam will let us know what’s happened, then you can go tend Mama.”
“Wait?”
“Waiting is a military wife’s duty. Always fretting—whether the knock at the door will be him, or an aide with the news that he’s been killed. Then when it is him, you don’t let on how much you’ve been fretting. He knows, but there’s nothing he can do to make the wait any easier.”
Alice’s brows furrowed in distress as she sank to the sofa.
Her sister’s pain was obvious, and Amanda surmised she wasn’t fretting over Sam’s welfare. That bothersome twinge was back. “I see you already know what it’s like.” She sat next to Alice and grasped her hand.
“Is it that obvious?”
After she had married Sam, it was only natural for Wil to move on with his life. But to her little sister? And why did that thought hurt so much? “You kept pretending you were flirting with sick and wounded soldiers in order to steal supplies, and all this time, you loved Wil. Does he...” Wil didn’t love easily, and she couldn’t bring herself to repeat the word. “...care for you?”
Alice shrugged. “I don’t know.”
For some reason, Amanda felt relief, but it was typical of Wil—if he did care, he wouldn’t let on and would go on to repeat his usual foolhardy pattern. She patted the back of Alice’s hand. “Why don’t I fetch some tea? It’ll make the wait a little easier.”
“Thank you, Amanda, and I apologize for calling Sam a damn Yankee.” As she left the parlor, Amanda sent a forgiving smile. In the kitchen, she boiled the water on the cookstove, then collected the tea cups and platter.
Ten minutes passed before she returned to the parlor. Drinking and chatting with an occasional forced smile, both pretended they were unbothered by the wait. Another half an hour passed. Amanda heard footsteps on the porch outside. She got up to check. Her freedman, Ezra, carried firewood to the parlor and kitchen.
In need of fresh air, Amanda grabbed her cloak. As she stepped onto the porch, she spotted Sam outside of the picket fence, tying his red horse to the rail. She rushed toward him.
Lowering his hat, he waved that any reunion must wait. “I must speak with Alice—alone.”
Duty first. “Then I shall check on Rebecca.”
Amanda accompanied him inside and scurried upstairs. Seated on the tapestry sofa, Alice lowered her head. “Have you come to arrest me?” she asked.
He waited for Amanda’s footsteps to vanish before responding, “I should.”
“What about Colonel Jackson?”
“As far as I know, he’s fine. Alice, we need to talk. One of my boys is dead.”
The blood drained from her face. “Dead?”
“Alice,” he said firmly, “I want to know what happened. Why were you smuggling?”
“After what happened to our house, Mama and I couldn’t make ends meet.”
“I know. I just wish...” He smacked a fist into his palm. “God damn this war. I ordered my boys not to fire unless absolutely necessary. One’s dead, so he’s not telling what happened. The other’s wounded. He says Jackson fired the first shot.”
“What else would you expect him to say?”
Her sympathy had changed to stubborn Southern pride, and Sam shot her a glare.
“My apologies, but it’s arrogant to presume that he’s telling the truth without hearing Wil’s version.”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t believe him. You forget that Jackson was my first field commander in the New Mexico territory.”
“Then arrest me. I’m the one to blame.”
“You know I can’t do that.” Sam sank into the green velvet wing chair and rubbed tired eyes. “I’ll think of some way to explain what happened.”
“In the future, I shall remember that I can come to you.”
“I wish you had remembered this time. Now go tend your mother. Let us know how she makes out.” She started for the door, and Sam grew melancholy. With each passing day, the coming campaign got closer. Would he ever see the baby Amanda carried? He needed to shake the mood before he went up to see Amanda.
“Sam,” Alice whispered, “I’m pleased that Amanda married you.”
“In spite of that tainted Yankee blood,” he said dryly.
Alice shrugged. “No one is perfect. Just remember, your child shall be a Virginian.”
The tension between them faded. “I’m certain I won’t be allowed to forget.”
Bending down, she kissed him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself. Amanda needs you.”
He rose and bowed slightly, then took her hand and kissed it. “I’m pleased we have finally made our peace. Let us hope the country will follow suit in the near future.”
“I think all of us are agreed to that.”
As she turned, he thought of the dead boy. There would be a lot more joining him in the coming days.
More than a fortnight passed before Mama was well enough to be up and about. Between the spring thaw and frequent rain, the swollen Rappahannock was impassable. With communication cut off from Amanda, Alice had no way of letting her know Mama would be fine.
For income, she mended uniforms and darned socks—hundreds and hundreds of them, or so it seemed. She hadn’t realized there were that many feet in the entire Army of Northern Virginia. With one lamp to see by, she continually strained her eyes, but she pressed on. Without the money, there would be no food for the pantry.
“Alice?” Withered beyond her years, Mama had grown haggard over the past few months.
“Yes, Mama.”
“I believe you have a caller. A gentleman just rode up.”
Wil? The supplies had been delivered by the time she returned to Fredericksburg, and she hadn’t seen him since the day at the shack. She set her darning needles aside. Readjusting pins and smoothing her hair, she faced Mama. “How do I look?”
Wrinkles were prominent around Mama’s lips, but she smiled in approval.
Alice’s heart flip flopped in that schoolgirl sort of way, and she rushed to the door. Remain calm—she mustn’t appear too eager. She took a deep breath before opening the door.
About to knock, Wil lowered his right arm. His hat was in his other hand, and he bent at the waist, kissing her hand. “Miss McGuire, I trust you are well.”
“Fine, thank you. Come inside, Colonel...” A laurel wreath surrounded the three gold stars on his collar. “I should say, Brigadier. Wil, you’re a general.” Thrilled with the news, she threw her arms around his neck.
“Much as I’m enjoying myself,” he whispered in her ear, “I don’t think the timing is appropriate.”
Mama was in the parlor. Alice stepped back. Fortunately, Mama hadn’t witnessed her unrestrained display of affection.
“I’m paying a call to fulfill my promise.”
“Promise?” she asked.
“Supper—I recall that you requested my presence.”
Unsure there was enough food for a guest, she said, “There’s not much in the pantry.”
A devilish spark entered his coal-black eyes. “There’s no need to fret if I’m escorting you to dinner.”
“What about Mama?”
“I fear Poker can only carry two.”
Alone—then his unannounced call was to see her. Her heart started that odd flipping again. “Pay your respects to Mama, and I shall accompany you.”
In the parlor, he greeted Mama and inquired about her health. He remained calm and collected. It was no wonder Mama never fretted that she was with him. If she only knew what Wil was really like under the courtly exterior.
After exchanging pleasantries, he escorted her outside. By Poker’s side, he faced her. “The Yankees are restless. As soon as the river is passable, they will likely move in force. For your safety, you and your mother should leave Fredericksburg.”
Her heart sank. His visit wasn’t a social call after all. “What more can the Yankees take from us?”
“Your lives.”
“Very well. I’ll put Mama on the train to Richmond. We have friends she can stay with, but I’m remaining behind. I’m going to follow Amanda’s example and tend wounded in the hospital.”
His eyes blazed, and he clutched her arms. “You’re a fool.”
“Perhaps, but it’s what I must do.”
With a nod, he released her. “I should have seen this coming.”
“Then you’re not going to reprimand me on propriety?”
“Would I dare?”
She shuffled her feet in the dirt. “You remind me of a boy I once knew.”
“Someone I should be jealous of?”
Jealous? Not Wil Jackson—he was teasing. “Timmy Mullen taught me how to spit and swear—all of the unladylike things that annoy Amanda.”
Amusement appeared on his face. “You never told me you can spit.”
“I don’t anymore. Papa got riled and swatted the backs of my legs. But that was nothing to the licking we got when he caught us smoking behind the barn.”
Laughing, Wil mounted Poker and extended a hand, lifting her on behind him. As they rode through town, people chatted with neighbors. Hooves clattered on the dirt streets, and wagon wheels creaked. Just as Fredericksburg was returning to life, the guns would force people from their homes yet again.
At the Fredericksburg Inn, miraculously still standing after the battle, officers with wives and sweethearts dined in a room separate from unaccompanied soldiers. Other ladies wore taffeta and chiffon. Self-conscious of her plain cotton dress, Alice was pleased their table sat in a far corner.
With no sign of his dark moods, Wil soon put her at ease.
Dinner consisted of roast duck, real oysters—not the mock variety so common in the South these days—potatoes, and vintage wine. Having gone months without real food, Alice restrained herself from gorging. Even then, she ate more like a pig, but Wil appeared unaffected by her slight of manners.
Uncharacteristically talkative, he entertained her with tales of Mexico, the West, and Indians. Far from savages, they led a unique way of life that was rich in tradition and folklore. Notably absent from his stories was his wife.
Even so, Alice absorbed each word. Oh dear, Amanda was right. It hadn’t been a passing fancy. He had stolen her heart. “I presume we are celebrating your promotion?” she inquired.
With a growing smile, the features of his bearded face were shadowed by the flickering candlelight. “We are celebrating my desire to share the company of a lady.”
She had blocked out the true meaning of his evacuation warning. As a brigade commander, he would be facing battle soon. Suddenly cold, she fought to remain brave. “It’s been a lovely evening.”
His gaze met hers, and his grin turned wicked. “It doesn’t need to end yet. If I acquire a room, we can—indulge ourselves.”
Part of her wanted to forget the consequences, but Wil wasn’t the marrying kind. Though a battle was looming, she mustn’t let her heart rule. “I’m not that kind of woman.”
So arrogant and sure of himself, he continued to smile. “A pity—it would have been delightful.” He reached across the table and grasped her hand. “Alice, I have enjoyed your company.”
Under his masculine grip, her hand trembled. Would she regret the decision if he fell in battle? One night was all he asked for. Was the price too high? “Why Wil Jackson, you astonish me. I didn’t think you were the sort to give up so easily.”
“I’m not, but...” He sighed. “The Yankees will likely spoil any future interludes.” He left several bills on the table for the meal, then stood.
Outside, they strolled under the hazy glow of moonlight. With so much rain and dampness throughout April, spring barely felt as if it had arrived. Drawing her shawl around her, she shivered.
Dirty, ragged soldiers roamed the streets—laughing and cursing. Inebriated voices sang.
“This is no place for a woman. I’ll escort you home.”
“Wil...” Sound reasoning abandoned her, and she pressed closer.
He leaned down and sought her mouth with his whiskers tickling her nose.
Hooves clattered as artillery wagons and cannon passed. Whips cracked, and more cursing.
Wil broke their embrace. “See that your mother leaves tonight. I wish you would give up this foolish notion of remaining behind and accompany her.”
“I can’t.” Her voice wavered. “Amanda’s going to need my help once the baby’s born. When it’s safe to cross the river, I’ll leave. In the meantime, I can be of assistance.”
“Very well.”
His even, almost gruff response, warned her that he had withdrawn. An emotionless mask fell in place, and the soldier had returned. He was a general of the Confederacy. Duty came first, and she must accept it, but for a little while, he had lowered his guard.