Cheryl Reavis (14 page)

“I can do that,” Valentina assured her. She suddenly grinned. “This is wonderful! I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to have adventures like you do.”

“Then hurry,” Kate said, shooing her out the door.

Kate glanced at Robert. He was almost on the verge of smiling.

“You have adventures?” he asked.

“So it seems to Valentina.”

“She knows about the hiding, then.”

“No, she does not,” Kate said pointedly. “No one knows about that.”

“I do,” he said. The man was teasing her, she suddenly realized. In the middle of all
this
.

She exhaled sharply and turned to go.

“Kate,” Robert said, and she looked back at him.

“What?”

“I...appreciate your help.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Maybe not, but you’ve kicked over the traces.”

“Is that another...soldier saying?” she asked. “Like the elephant?”

“It is.”

“Well, I’ll have to wait to find out what that one means—and hopefully you and the chaplain won’t end up in the stockade. The chaplain is stirring,” she added, looking at him for a long moment before she hurried out the door.

I’m doing this for Max,
she told herself on the path back to the house. So he won’t have to step on an urgent request from Reverend Lewis. It would mean nothing to Mrs. Kinnard and Mrs. Russell if he put a drunken chaplain in the stockade, but for the Reverend.

She had formed a plan of sorts by the time she got to the house, one that involved Private Castine. But just as she was about to corner him, the sergeant major stepped into the foyer, and her hope that Private Castine would likely do anything if he thought it was for Valentina evaporated.

“Is there something you need, Miss Kate?” the sergeant major asked, looking at her closely. Kate was trying hard to hide her agitated state, but from the expression on his face, she knew it wasn’t working.

In for a penny, in for a pound,
she thought.

“Yes,” she said hurriedly, whispering to keep anyone in the parlor from hearing. “The chaplain—the one who has ‘seen the elephant’—is drunk in the summer kitchen with Mrs. Woodard’s brother—
he’s
not drunk, just the chaplain. Reverend Lewis and the chaplain were friends in the seminary, and the Reverend wants the chaplain hidden until he’s sober because this time he’s going to end up in the stockade and the Reverend thinks he’s not well enough for that kind of punishment. I need coffee and blankets and somebody to mind him—so Ro—Mrs. Woodard’s brother can sit down at this dinner—so
my
brother won’t have to risk the occupation peace by having to address any of this with Mrs. Kinnard
and
Mrs. Russell here—because it all comes down to Reverend Lewis’s request, you see, and they will surely take exception if it isn’t carried out. And we definitely don’t want Mrs. Woodard all upset because her brother’s in the middle of it.” She stopped to breathe and found she didn’t have anything more to say.

“Miss Kate,” he said after a long moment. “I can tell you right now, I’m going to think long and hard before I ever ask you a question like that again. Castine!” he whispered sharply, making the private jump despite a much-less-audible-than-usual summons. “You and Giles get coffee and blankets out to the summer kitchen
now
. Send Mrs. Woodard’s brother back to the house and you two stay there with this...problem until I tell you different. Go!”

Castine scurried toward the kitchen just as the dinner guests poured out of the parlor on their way to the dining room.

“There you are,” Valentina said as if she hadn’t just seen her. “It’s time to be seated.” And she followed Max and Maria to the table with a great sense of importance—and mischief—which was not lost on Max.

He gave Kate a pointed look; she ignored it. She lingered in the hallway, trying to see if Robert was going to come back to the house.

“Kate? What are you doing?” he asked when she didn’t immediately join the rest of the guests.

“Oh...nothing,” she assured him.

“Then could you do it in here? Somebody’s got to sit between Mrs. Kinnard and Mrs. Russell,” he added in a whisper.

Kate smiled sweetly and took her place between the two women, noting with some dismay that Robert—if he came—would be seated directly across from her. As usual the table was set in mismatched china. It immediately set Mrs. Kinnard and Mrs. Russell to reminiscing about the occasions they’d attended when this set or that set in its entirety had been used—Maria’s christening, Samuel’s birth. There seemed to have been no occasions regarding Robert.

Kate made the mistake of looking at Valentina, who raised her eyebrows and looked at the empty chair next to her, then back at Kate—with the subtlety of a broad ax. Kate wasn’t quite sure whether Valentina was simply enjoying her “adventure” or whether she was trying to ask a question—which Kate could not have answered because she had Max’s full attention. She sat there, trying her best to effect a certain air of nonchalance and hoping that for once, his reputation for knowing everything wouldn’t hold.

Soldiers began bringing the food in and placing it on the sideboard—beef, pork, chicken, buttered potatoes, shell beans, sweet and sour beets, cooked cabbage, pickles, bread and butter, cold milk and coffee. Everything looked and smelled wonderful, and the soldiers selected to do the actual serving clearly had had practice. Kate accepted a few spoonfuls of everything, but she had to force herself to eat. It didn’t help that she could see Sergeant Major Perkins walk past the open dining room door carrying Robbie more than once.

Kate looked down at her plate and concentrated on the food, bite by bite. Neither Mrs. Kinnard nor Mrs. Russell seemed interested in conversing—with her—to Kate’s relief. Maria included all three of them in conversation from time to time, as a good hostess should, but Mrs. Kinnard stayed disengaged, until Max introduced the topic of civic pride, especially the possibility of beautifying the area around the train station where visitors gained their first impression of the town.

Beautification, after so many years of hardship and deprivation, was obviously dear to Mrs. Kinnard’s heart, and she was full of ideas and suggestions—and criticisms of the occupation. Valentina, who had likely heard them all before, fidgeted in her chair and looked at the ceiling from time to time.

Kate glanced toward the dining room doorway again, thinking she had caught a glimpse of someone in the hallway.

It wasn’t Perkins pacing to keep Robbie happy. It was the baby’s namesake himself. Robert stood just in the doorway until he caught his sister’s attention.

“Robert!” Maria said, as surprised as she was pleased.

“I apologize for my lateness,” he said. “I thought it better to be tardy if it meant showing up presentable.”

There was at least some truth in that. He’d clearly been to see the town barber at some point, something Kate hadn’t noticed in the dimly lit summer kitchen, and he was wearing a white shirt and a dark suit, both of which looked new.

Yes,
Kate thought.
Presentable.

He greeted Mrs. Kinnard and Mrs. Russell; they both seemed pleased to see him.

“Miss Woodard,” he said as he took the seat across from Kate. “Are we missing Mrs. Justice this evening?” he asked, causing Mrs. Kinnard and Mrs. Russell to look at each other despite Kate’s being in the way.

“She is visiting someone in need,” Mrs. Kinnard said after a moment.

“That sounds very much like Mrs. Justice,” he said, finally glancing in Kate’s direction. Once again she looked down and concentrated on her plate.

The meal continued pleasantly enough, punctuated by succinct but informed comments regarding the weather—from Mrs. Kinnard and Mrs. Russell—and how the recent snow affected train travel— from Max. Maria kept staring at her brother, as if she still couldn’t believe he was here.

Kate thought that Max was making every effort not to say something that might lead to the topic of wars lost and subsequent martial law and reconstruction. Robert chatted with Valentina, asking her where the little girl Samuel used to tease so had gone. Kate could sense the tension in Maria at the mention of Samuel’s name, but it soon passed, likely because of the gentleness with which Robert spoke of him. There was no evidence of the agonized pain Kate had witnessed last night, but she would have guessed that it was not easy to mention him. Perhaps Robert’s talk with Maria had helped after all, even if Kate still suspected that he hadn’t told her the full details of Samuel’s death.

When the dessert—apple pie, as promised—arrived and had been served, there was a slight commotion in the foyer, but it was loud enough to catch everyone’s attention.

“Just the mail pouches,” Max said, looking at Kate, because he knew the degree of her expectancy when a train bringing the mail from the north arrived. She took a quiet breath, aware that Robert was looking at her as well. She didn’t count on there being a letter from Harrison, but she hoped for one all the same.

“I would like to make a request—it’s more of an invitation, actually,” Robert said. “To all of you.”

Neither Mrs. Kinnard nor Mrs. Russell had finished eating, but his remark caused both their half-lifted forks to return to their plates.

“What is it, Robert?” Maria asked, clearly wondering if this was going to be something worrying. She glanced at Max in what Kate thought was a request of her own.

Whatever it is, let him be.

“I want to ask all of you to be in church tomorrow,” Robert said.

“I am
always
in church on Sunday, Robert,” Mrs. Kinnard said. “Surely you remember that.”

He smiled. “Yes, ma’am. So I’ve always heard. And you must remember that despite my dear mother’s best efforts, I
wasn’t
always there in the Markham family pew on Sunday.”

“I believe
never
would be the more apt word for it,” Maria said, and his smile broadened. Kate watched as it quickly faded. It was as if he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let himself enjoy even the smallest pleasantry, and if sometimes the enjoyment overtook him, he had to push it quickly away.

He doesn’t think he deserves it,
Kate thought. And no one understood that better than she.

“Even so, I wanted you all to know that I am extending my personal invitation, and I earnestly hope you’ll be on hand.”

“
Your
personal invitation,” Max said.

“Are you going to tell us why?” Maria asked.

Robert looked around the table and then directly at Kate.

“I’m preaching the sermon.”

Chapter Nine

R
obert watched their faces. If he had to assign an emotion to each of the people present at the table—the ones who had known him before the war—it would have been the same emotion—incredulity. And he would have to include his brother-in-law as well, because the Colonel, who had likely heard a great deal of what Maria’s brother had been like, was nothing at the moment if not incredulous.

“And who has approved this?” Mrs. Kinnard wanted to know, clearly intending to interrogate him, as was her self-appointed duty.

“Reverend Lewis,” he said. “I had a long talk with him. It’s all arranged,” he added.

Mrs. Kinnard opened her mouth to say something, but then didn’t. She was clearly undecided about the appropriateness of such an event. She, like everyone else in the town, knew that he had lived “a man’s life” before the war, and “all arranged” was not a term she was inclined to recognize, especially when she had had no part in the arranging.

“Well,” she said after a moment. “I simply do not know what to say.”

“It won’t be my first sermon,” Robert said. “If that helps.”

Clearly, it didn’t because she looked even more startled than she had at his initial announcement. And Maria. Maria was openly bewildered by it all, and he couldn’t fault her for that. He was still somewhat bewildered himself.

“I take it you have had some kind of Saul-on-the-road-to-Damascus experience, then,” Max said finally. The remark was rude; everyone at the table recognized that fact, just as everyone wanted to hear Robert’s response.

“Nothing nearly so dramatic,” Robert said, looking at his brother-in-law directly. “I will talk about that tomorrow in church.”

“I see,” Max said.

There were no more comments and the silence at the table grew more and more uncomfortable.

Robert looked at Kate. He couldn’t read her expression at all—because she was avoiding his eyes. He expected her to be surprised—and doubtful. Given their conversation last night,
doubtfulness
was the one emotion he was most prepared to see. But when she finally did look at him, he saw neither. What he found there in her eyes was understanding, as if the things he’d just said, to her way of thinking, explained everything: his coming home again, the effort he was making to mend his relationship with Maria—and the chaplain in the summer kitchen.

Two are better than one,
he suddenly thought.
For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow...a threefold cord is not quickly broken.

He gave her a slight nod and stood, and he thought for a moment she was going to ask him to sit down again. It was clear to him that she didn’t want him to go, not yet, and that she was a woman with questions, who apparently saw no reason in this world why he shouldn’t answer them.

“If you’ll excuse me now,” he said. “I’ll take my leave. Maria—Max, thank you for inviting me. The meal was excellent. The best I’ve had in a very long time. Ladies, it was a joy to spend this time in your company. I am most grateful.”

He shot a look in Maria’s direction.

See? I haven’t forgotten everything our mother taught us.

“Robert—” Maria began, but then she seemed to realize that whatever she needed to say, she couldn’t say here. “Good night.”

He smiled and left the table, waiting until he was out of sight to sigh in relief. It was over. He had done it, and now he was committed to this new life he was about to embark upon.

Be strong and of good courage...for the Lord thy God...He will not fail thee.

I’m trying, Lord...

He looked around at a sound. Kate had come out of the dining room. He watched her now as the sergeant major approached her, holding a letter in his hand. She thanked him and took it, barely glancing at it, as if she had no real interest in where it had come from or who had sent it. But then, when the sergeant major was walking away, she looked down at it and, holding it with both hands, briefly pressed it to her lips.

“Oh!” Valentina exclaimed as she came into the hallway. “There was a letter for you in the mail pouch! I love to get letters. I don’t care to answer them, though,” she said with a laugh. “It’s so tedious. Is it from someone special?”

“Just a young friend of the family,” Kate said. “He’s...away at boarding school.”

“Not that exciting, then. Not like when it’s from an admirer.”

Kate said nothing to that. She put the letter carefully into her pocket. Robert had hoped to speak to her—about what, he hadn’t decided. He just wanted to look into her eyes again. He wanted to know if he had been mistaken earlier and perhaps to ask if she would be at tomorrow’s service. It would help him a great deal if she were, but he wouldn’t tell her that. To do so would be inappropriate, and he’d done enough inappropriate things where she was concerned already. Valentina’s presence precluded any exchange between them at all, but Valentina wasn’t the only reason. Standing here and being privy to that one intimate and heartfelt gesture regarding her letter had suddenly made Kate unapproachable. He wondered suddenly if the letter was somehow connected to the photograph she kept hidden in her book. She was such a mystery to him, and he had no wish to intrude.

He turned and left the house, heading down the slate path to see how the chaplain fared. If the man was sober enough now, he would likely either be belligerent or embarrassingly remorseful, neither of which would be a true measure of the man. In any event Robert would have done all that Reverend Lewis had asked him to do—with Kate’s help. She had taken care of what he couldn’t—at least not without a stint in the stockade. It was possible that the chaplain could be sent back to his barracks now, hopefully in the company of soldiers who wouldn’t let him make any detours along the way. Or he might still be deep in his whiskey-induced oblivion. Either way Robert had a sermon to write. He would do that and he would not think about Kate Woodard.

* * *

“Robert’s leaving,” Valentina said. “It takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”

“What does?” Kate forced herself to ask. It would perhaps be another hour before Mrs. Kinnard and the rest of them left, and it was all Kate could do not to go upstairs now, without a word to anyone, and read Harrison’s letter. But Valentina was here, forcing her to participate in what was supposed to be an enjoyable evening.

“The way he looks— Oh, I keep forgetting. You didn’t know him before.”

“Maria showed me his photograph,” Kate said, glancing at Max and the rest of the guests as they passed by on their way to the parlor. “I could see that he is...changed.”

“He’s still handsome, though, don’t you think? In a rough and dangerous kind of way—like a
pirate
or a
highwayman
. I wonder how the man is?”

It took Kate a moment to realize that Valentina likely meant the chaplain.

“I was so surprised when Robert came to dinner, weren’t you? This evening has been more exciting than any evening I’ve ever had—well, except when there was a bread riot during the war. Or when the prisoners broke out of the stockade—Mother and I both were quite afraid. Oh, and when General Stoneman raided the town. But those involved
everybody
. They weren’t very...personal. Not like tonight when I was able to actually participate. I’ve decided I quite like adventures. It will be hard to go back to the dull everyday things. Excitement seems to follow you, Miss Woodard. I must visit you every single afternoon in case there is more.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Kate said, meaning the daily visits as much as the idea that events like tonight’s escapade somehow followed her about.

“Oh, dear,” Valentina said, looking past her. “Mother wants us. We’d better go in.”

Us?
Kate thought. But she didn’t argue. She followed Valentina dutifully into the parlor, her hand resting on the pocket where Harrison’s letter lay safe and hidden.

“Play for us, please, Valentina,” Mrs. Kinnard said.

“Of course,” Valentina said with the assurance of someone who was completely secure in both her appearance and her accomplishments.

Valentina sat down at the pianoforte and began looking at the piece already open on the music stand. Kate intended to take the chair by the window, regardless of the cold draft.

“Remember where you are,” Kate whispered to Valentina, who looked at her blankly for a moment before she realized that it wouldn’t do to play either Southern or Northern songs.

“I brought these with me from Philadelphia,” Kate said, retrieving a stack of sheet music from the bookshelf nearest the pianoforte.

Valentina looked through them. “I don’t know any of these—‘Little Brown Jug’?”

“They’re quite new,” Kate said. “I believe you’ll enjoy playing them.”

Valentina looked at them doubtfully, then selected one.

“‘Sweet Genevieve,’” she said over her shoulder to her mother and began to play as easily as if the song were part of a well-rehearsed repertoire.

Kate sat down by the window. She could see that a lamp burned in the summer kitchen and that from time to time someone—Robert, surely—moved about.

Valentina worked her way through the sheet music, and after being cajoled into an encore, began to sing the lyrics the second time through. She even managed to get Mrs. Kinnard and Mrs. Russell to join in on “Little Brown Jug.”

Kate might have found this a most enjoyable evening if she hadn’t had Harrison’s letter in her pocket. And she felt a little sorry for Private Castine because he couldn’t hear Valentina play and sing. Mrs. Kinnard had clearly done her work well in preparing Valentina for whatever bride fair she might find herself participating in.

Kate glanced out the window again. The moon was high, and the night cold and still. She saw the lamp in the summer kitchen go out, and someone leaving, but she couldn’t tell who. All must be well with the chaplain, she thought. For now at least. But despite the Reverend Lewis’s good intentions, it seemed to Kate that they were only delaying the inevitable.

Out of respect for Max’s departure tomorrow, the evening ended early despite Valentina’s desire to keep playing. Kate said her good-nights to the women, and she intended to go straight upstairs to her bedchamber.

“We’re almost all accounted for,” Maria said when Kate was about to take her leave. “Sergeant Major Perkins says Robbie is fast asleep in the nursery, but Mrs. Justice hasn’t returned yet.”

“I’ll stay down here and let her in,” Kate said. “I’m not sleepy and I want to read awhile.” She was telling the truth on both counts, and it didn’t matter to her where she read Harrison’s letter, only that she be alone.

She waited for a little while after Maria had gone because she wanted to make sure that she wasn’t interrupted. When the house was quiet, she removed the letter from her pocket and turned it over to read her name in Harrison’s painfully meticulous handwriting. Mrs. Howe had insisted upon that, that he achieve the penmanship of a gentleman. Kate had seen him practicing many times—struggling—to accomplish what Mrs. Howe had asked of him.

Miss Kate Woodard.

She took a deep breath and opened the envelope.

Dear Kate,
it began.

She looked up because of a slight rustling in the hallway. Mrs. Justice was standing in the doorway, and she was clearly distressed.

“What is it?” Kate asked immediately.

“My dear,” Mrs. Justice began. She gave a heavy sigh. “I need your help. I’ve done a terrible thing.”

“What?” Kate said, growing alarmed now.

“I’ve been at Mrs. Russell’s house—talking to Warrie. It didn’t help. It didn’t help at all. She blames Robbie for everything that happened to Eleanor. Mrs. Russell told her that he’s going to preach tomorrow, and she’s—she’s—oh, she is just not herself. I think she’s going to disrupt the service. I couldn’t talk her out of it—and poor Robbie—I thought he should know, so I told him.”

“About the disruption?”

Mrs. Justice stood wringing her hands. “And about—Eleanor, too,” she said, her chin trembling. “Oh, my dear—I just didn’t know what else to do. And now I’ve made things worse. Now he’s so— Will you talk to him?”

“Me? Mrs. Justice, I couldn’t possibly.”

“You have such a good effect on him—”

“How could I? I barely know him.”

“I don’t know how. I just know that you do. He knows it, too.”

“Mrs. Justice—”

“You’re the only one who can help. Please, my dear. He’s in the kitchen.”

“The lamp isn’t lit in the summer kitchen.”

“No, no. Not out there. The kitchen in here. Just...go. Sit with him for a time. Let him have someone to talk to if he needs to—the way you did before. It will help him. I know it will.”

Kate closed her eyes and sighed. She did
not
want to do this. If she was certain about anything, she was certain that he would much rather be alone.

“Hurry, my dear!” Mrs. Justice whispered, looking down the hallway. “Please!”

Kate folded Harrison’s letter and put it back into her pocket. Then she took a deep breath and stood.

“I’ll...go,” Kate said. “But I don’t think I’ll stay.”

“That’s all I ask, my dear,” Mrs. Justice said. “Even if it’s just for a moment, it may be all in this world he needs.”

Kate walked steadily down the hallway, the soft-soled shoes she was wearing making very little noise. She saw him long before he saw her. He was sitting at the worktable near the cookstove. He looked up sharply when he realized someone was there.

“Go or stay,” she said bluntly.

He looked at her for a long moment before he answered.

“Stay,” he said finally.

Kate walked to the stove and looked into the coffee pot. It was half full, so she got down two cups from a nearby shelf, poured them each a cup and brought them to the table.

She sat down in one of the chairs at the side of the table so she wouldn’t be across from him.

“Did Mrs. Justice send you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kate said, and he nodded.

He didn’t say anything more, and neither did she. After a time he picked up the coffee cup and took a sip.