Cheryl Reavis (6 page)

“Indeed,” Mrs. Kinnard assured her. Believing that a catastrophe would be imminent if anything breakable found its way into Kate’s hands was clearly no hardship for her at all.

Mrs. Kinnard frowned at the mismatched cups and saucers on the tray, and for a moment Kate thought she was going to comment on it. But then she must have remembered what had likely happened to the set. “Maria went to such great trouble to hide her mother’s things when the house was looted,” she said. “We must do our best to preserve her tea service, after all.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Kate said, smiling. She understood perfectly that she was supposed to cringe at the insinuation that she had political and regional ties to the looters, and that as a hostess, she left much to be desired. But being able to preside over the pouring of tea didn’t matter to her in the least and hadn’t since Harrison was born. She gave a soft sigh at the sudden thought of him. She wanted desperately to be away from Mrs. Kinnard and the others so she could at least write to him. She had been so faithful in her correspondence to him that she liked to think he might even anticipate the arrival of her letters. She always tried to make them as interesting as she could in the hope that he would look forward to the next one. Perhaps she would tell him about the strange return of the man upstairs.

The tea pouring proceeded in silence and without mishap.

“Tell me, Mrs. Justice,” Kate said at one point in an attempt to foster enough mild conversation to carry out her mission. “What other adventures did you have when you were a little girl?”

Mrs. Kinnard gave her a warning look. She clearly didn’t want any more disclosures regarding her childhood. Kate tried not to smile again at the mental image of the three of them riding an ancient horse and trying to make it to those cookies on the window ledge without being seen. Somehow she couldn’t get past imagining them dressed just as they were now.

But Mrs. Justice was saved having to answer by a loud commotion in the foyer. Kate thought for a moment that Mrs. Kinnard was going to get up and go see what was occurring for herself, lest the chaplain get by her without her having the opportunity to give him both his instructions and her opinion of his being brought here in the first place.

“Well, how drunk is he!” they all heard Perkins say.

Kate couldn’t make out the reply. She worked on looking as if she had no idea what that comment might mean.

“Get him in here and sober him up! Stick his head in a bucket of snow if you have to!”

“Soldiers do seem to have unusual solutions to their predicaments, don’t they?” Mrs. Justice commented mildly as the commotion intensified and moved past the dining room door toward the back of the house. She took another sip of tea and looked at Kate. “What did Robbie say, my dear? Did he mention where he’d been at all?”

“I didn’t ask him anything about that,” Kate said.

“Oh! Of course not,” Mrs. Justice said, apparently alarmed that she’d dared suggest such a rude and thoughtless thing. “That wouldn’t have been a good idea at all. But you did talk to him?”

“He had...questions. He didn’t seem to remember what had happened to him.” She took a quiet breath. “He didn’t know his father had died.”

“Oh, that poor, poor boy,” Mrs. Justice said.

“And did he know about Maria’s marriage?” Mrs. Kinnard asked.

“No. He didn’t.”

“I’m sure he was upset about
that,
as well.”

“He is Maria’s brother. He would naturally be concerned about her. Fortunately I could reassure him.”

“Indeed yes,” Mrs. Justice said. Mrs. Kinnard and Mrs. Russell both gave her a hard look.

They could hear a second arrival in the foyer and then heavy footsteps going up the stairs.

“That must be the chaplain, don’t you think? Poor Robbie,” Mrs. Justice said again.

“Poor Robbie, indeed,” Mrs. Kinnard said, setting her cup down hard despite her desire to keep Maria’s mismatched tea service safe. “He’ll get no spiritual comfort
there
.”

“Sounds like their army surgeon to me,” Mrs. Russell said. “For a thin man, he has a very heavy tread. But then they
all
do.”

Kate took a breath and tried not to consider what in the world could have been behind the remark. Her head was beginning to hurt, despite the tea and the excellent cookies. No matter what Sergeant Major Perkins thought, there were some things cookies just wouldn’t fix.

“I’d like to say a prayer, if I may,” Mrs. Justice said.

“For
whom?
” Mrs. Kinnard asked, as if prayers came under her jurisdiction, as well.

“For our Robbie, of course,” she said. “If you would bow your heads please.” She waited a moment for them to comply, then continued. “Dear Lord, we don’t know where Robert Markham has been or what kind of trouble and heartache he’s had, but we ask you—now that he’s home again and safe—please guide us so we can know what to do for him, and please don’t let us do anything to add to his worries and make them worse. Amen.”

Mrs. Justice smiled and looked around at each of them. “There. I feel so much better now.”

So do I,
Kate thought. Incredibly, Mrs. Justice, with her gentle, forthright prayer, had reminded all of them that Robert Markham would likely need help—but none of them should arbitrarily decide what that help should be. She wondered if Robert had any idea what a staunch ally he had in this kind and pleasant woman.

Someone knocked softly on the door, and without waiting to be admitted, Mrs. Kinnard’s daughter Valentina swept into the room.

“Ah! Here you are, Mother,” she said. She looked...stunning. She would have been perfectly at home in any salon in Philadelphia.

“Imagine my surprise when I arrived home—
finally—
the snow on the road from Mocksville was terrible—Aunt Matilda and Uncle Bart send their love, by the way. And here I discover you’re nowhere to be found and the servants tell me you’re in the middle of all this excitement about Robert Markham—and my word, there are soldiers all over the place. How is it that this house is
always
overrun with soldiers?”

“Perhaps because a colonel lives here,” Kate said mildly.

“Oh. Well. Yes. Hello, Miss Woodard,” Valentina said, smiling. “You’re looking very...fine today.”

Kate was well aware that she didn’t look fine at all. She’d been alternating the same travel dress with a plain calico morning dress she kept at her brother’s house specifically for getting down on the floor and playing with the boys. The fact that most of her wardrobe was likely sitting in the Philadelphia train station meant she might be alternating the two dresses for some days hence, turning whichever one she’d just worn wrong side out and hanging it on the rack in the airing room next to the nursery each night.

“You’re very kind, Valentina, but I’m not at my best, I’m afraid. What a lovely dress and hat you have on,” Kate said truthfully, openly admiring the bright orange shantung day bodice Valentina wore above a pale blue skirt with a pleated cream underskirt showing beneath it, and cream-colored lace at her throat and wrists. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes—”

“No,” Mrs. Kinnard assured them both.

“No,” Valentina said dutifully. “I’m very apt to spill. Or break,” she added, completely ignoring the look her mother gave her.

“So am I,” Kate said. “I was only just telling your mother I ought not pour the tea because of it. Do you suppose there is anything we can do about it?”

“Perhaps there’s hope for you, Miss Woodard,” Valentina said. “As for myself—I am quite useless. Or so my mother tells me. You wouldn’t believe the number of dresses and tablecloths and teacups I’ve wrecked.”

Kate couldn’t keep from smiling. For the first time in their numerous encounters since Max and Maria had married, Kate found herself coming very close to liking this young woman. Today she seemed to have no guile at all, despite what must have been her mother’s diligent tutelage.

“So tell me. Is it true that Robert Markham has returned?” Valentina asked the room at large.

“Yes,” Kate answered, because no one else seemed inclined to.

“Is he very changed— Oh, that’s right. You wouldn’t know. Is he changed, Mother?”

“I couldn’t say.
I
haven’t been allowed to see him,” Mrs. Kinnard said, and Valentina actually laughed.

“Oh, dear. Someone is going to suffer for that.” Valentina was openly teasing her mother—and somebody was going to suffer for
that,
too, Kate thought.

But Valentina didn’t seem to be worried in the least. She was so different from the Valentina Kate had grown accustomed to, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.

“Miss Woodard, I believe we were trying to ascertain whether or not Robert said anything sensible. Are you or are you not going to enlighten us?” Mrs. Kinnard said.

“He said he was grateful to you, Mrs. Kinnard—and to Mrs. Justice and Mrs. Russell for establishing his identity,” Kate said.

“As he should be,” Mrs. Kinnard said, not about to give an inch. “Certainly we will have to find out where he’s been all this—”

“Why?” Kate asked, daring to interrupt. “There’s no need for him to justify his whereabouts to anyone, except perhaps Maria. She is the one he has hurt the most.”

“Well, there’s El—” Mrs. Justice started to say.

“And
that
is not fit for civilized discussion,” Mrs. Kinnard snapped. “What she became is clearly what she always was.” She looked at Kate. “Or perhaps things are done differently where you come from and there is no accountability for bad behavior.”

I’m too tired for this,
Kate suddenly thought. What little sleep she’d had had been on one of the boys’ cots in the downstairs nursery wing of the house. Mrs. Kinnard had more than proved that she intended to go to any length necessary to be offended, and Kate just couldn’t endure another round of verbal sparring.

She stood instead. “I believe I’ll go see if the sergeant major can tell me what is happening with my brother-in-law,” she said, hoping that the term “brother-in-law” would induce Mrs. Kinnard to understand whose claim on Robert Markham took precedence. This was a family matter. No one could pacify Mrs. Kinnard at this point, least of all Kate, and she had no intention of allowing the woman to meddle where she didn’t belong. Kate had no intention of coming back, either, whether she gleaned any information from Perkins or not. She had to write her letter to Harrison and she had to get away from Mrs. Kinnard before she said something to unravel Max’s fragile hold on a peaceful military occupation altogether.

“I’ll come with you,” Valentina said.

“That’s not necessary—” Kate tried to say, but Valentina ignored her and her mother’s protests.

“Oh, but I want to. You must tell me about the dresses in Philadelphia—after you speak to Sergeant Major Perkins, of course. I get so lonely for my own kind sometimes. We can have a real conversation.”

“Valentina. I require you here,” Mrs. Kinnard said firmly as Kate stepped into the hallway. She could immediately hear raised voices coming from the upstairs. Sergeant Major Perkins stood at the bottom of the staircase, alert but not yet ready to intervene.

“What’s happening?” Kate asked. “Is that the chaplain yelling?”

“Could be. Or it could be your brother-in-law,” Perkins said. “Not sure who’s preaching to who.”

“Aren’t you going to intervene?”

“Not until I hear furniture breaking,” he said calmly. “Most of the time two soldiers yelling at each other won’t mean a lot.”

“Miss Woodard! Wait!” Valentina called behind her, and the sigh Kate had been suppressing for some time got away from her. Clearly her life would have been much simpler if she’d just gotten on that train.

Chapter Five

W
here is she?

Robert kept listening for the sound of his sister-in-law’s footsteps in the hallway outside his door. He had only seen her once since the hiding episode, when she’d brought him his Bible and his Confederate enlistment card, and that was two days ago. He didn’t think she’d been driven to hide again because he hadn’t heard Mrs. Kinnard’s distinctive voice for some time now—or if she had concealed herself, she’d found a more obscure place to do it.

He was feeling much stronger; he was awake and dressed and seated comfortably in the rocking chair by the fire, like the old man he had seemingly become. His appetite had returned—much to Mrs. Justice’s pleasure—but ever since he’d awakened from his laudanum-induced stupor, he’d found himself in the middle of a crossroad. Not a spiritual or an emotional one, but one that literally involved all manner of comings and goings in the house. People arrived in a steady stream at the front door, or they made their entry into the house at the back via the kitchen. However they managed to get inside, they all apparently had the same goal—ostensibly to deliver food and drink as a “welcome home” for him, but actually to satisfy their curiosity about his return. There was no surprise in that, of course; he had essentially come back from the dead. What surprised him was that the parade of would-be visitors continued despite the fact that none of them were ever allowed to visit. He had his brother-in-law’s sergeant major to thank for that, and he was grateful. It was a great relief not to have to talk to anyone. Unfortunately the one person he actually wanted to talk to was prone to hiding.

Kate.

He had learned her given name by overhearing snippets of conversation in the house. “Miss Kate,” the sergeant major called her. It would seem, too, that she actually did have a certain responsibility for keeping Mrs. Kinnard pacified, and he didn’t envy her that.

He was also learning more about the soldiers assigned to the house—Bruno, who had cared for his father during his final illness and who clearly had a fondness for the old man. Private Castine, who was suffering the torture of being a young man surrounded by attractive Southern young ladies nearly everywhere he went, most of whom never deigned to speak to him and the ones who did weren’t nearly so prized. Admiring someone from afar was a decidedly lonely pastime.

It came as a surprise to Robert that he rather liked Sergeant Major Perkins. The very first question the man had put to him had seemed offhand and innocent—even humorous—but it had been straight to the point: “Did you get the chaplain straightened out or not?”

It was a question for which there was likely no answer, but by asking it, Perkins had made it known that he—if not the entire household—had heard the heated exchange during what everyone had assumed was an occasion for giving and getting spiritual comfort. But he hadn’t asked Robert for any details, as Robert had expected. Instead he had established that, at some point, he might, and at that time he would expect an answer.

Robert had managed to endure a short one-sided conversation with Mrs. Kinnard—she’d talked about the suffering she had endured at the hands of the occupiers; ostensibly, he listened. He’d also had a visit with Mrs. Justice, but she had cried so when she had seen him awake, sitting up and mostly himself again, that he couldn’t find a way to ask her about Eleanor. Mrs. Russell didn’t come to talk to him at all, and he supposed it was because he was too much of a reminder of Jimmy.

What with the influx of food into the house and the weeping, it was as if he’d died rather than come home again. He was certain of one thing, however. It had to be significant that Mrs. Justice did not once mention Eleanor. He was not so certain that Kate Woodard was going to be able to grant him his second favor and bring him the information he wanted.

He looked up at a sound out in the hallway. The sergeant major stood in the doorway.

“You sent for me, sir?” he asked.

“I... Yes. I was wondering if Miss Woodard was available. I’d like to speak to her.”

“She’s about to leave the house, sir, if she hasn’t already,” he said.

“Do you know when she’ll return?”

“Couldn’t say, sir. She had some letters she wanted to mail, and then Miss Valentina—Mrs. Kinnard’s daughter, that would be—she kind of swooped in and pounced on her about wearing the same dress all the time. Anybody would have thought the fur would fly after a remark like that, but off together they went. Miss Woodard’s got her hands full trying to keep the peace with the Kinnards. You probably already know things will run a lot smoother for a lot of people if she does,” he added significantly, and Robert didn’t miss his implication that whatever affected Colonel Woodard would also affect Maria, and ultimately her newly resurrected brother, as well.

“If Miss Valentina intends to address this wardrobe situation, she’ll likely keep Miss Woodard hostage until she’s got everything the way she thinks it ought to be. It’s going to be interesting to see how this turns out, what with both of them being as determined about things as they are.”

“Why is she wearing the same dress all the time?” Robert asked, commenting on the one thing in the sergeant major’s report he found intriguing. He hadn’t actually had the opportunity to notice her dresses, but he did understand enough about women to know that while such a situation might not be troubling to a farm woman who only had one everyday dress, to someone like Kate Woodard, it could be a catastrophe.

No, he decided immediately. It wouldn’t be a catastrophe to her at all. Valentina might think it was the end of the world, but not Kate.

He frowned because he had no idea how he had arrived at that opinion.

“Well, she doesn’t have much choice. All her trunks went on the train to Philadelphia. I guess you could say they went and she didn’t.”

“Are you saying she didn’t go because I turned up?”

“No,” he said bluntly. “I’m not. Anything else, sir?”

“Would you tell Miss Woodard I’d like to have a word with her when she comes back.”

“I’ll tell her—but I can’t say for sure what she’ll do about it. Like I said, she’s a determined kind of woman.”

“Sergeant Major,” Robert said as Perkins turned to go. “Is there any word about my sister’s return?”

“Not yet. Telegraph lines are down in places east of here. You would know how that goes.”

Robert looked at him. It took him a moment before he understood what the sergeant major meant. In Perkins’s opinion at least, and on some level, the war was still going on.

When Perkins had gone, Robert walked to the window and looked out. He didn’t see Kate or Valentina—which likely meant that she was still here after all.

He took the back stairs down to the kitchen. Mrs. Justice was just putting loaves of bread into the oven.

“Dear Robbie,” she said when she saw him. “Can I get you something?”

“I...was just looking for Miss Woodard.”

“She’s gone to army headquarters and then, I believe, on an emergency quest to the dressmaker’s with Valentina. All her trunks went to Philadelphia without her, you know.”

“Yes. I heard about that.”

“It’s terribly inconvenient,” she said. “She has her valise, thankfully, but they only carry so much. I’m still not sure why she didn’t go. The colonel had everything arranged. It was a good thing she didn’t, though. Heaven only knows what might have happened if she hadn’t been here to help you.”

“Yes,” Robert said, but the truth was that it hadn’t occurred to him before, how timely Kate Woodard’s being in the house that night had been.

“Robbie?” Mrs. Justice said, and she looked so troubled. He waited for her to ask the question she so obviously wanted to ask. She was frowning, something she rarely did in his experience.

“What is it, Mrs. Justice?”

“I— Oh, it’s nothing. Here,” she said opening the warming oven and taking down a plate. “Have a ham biscuit.”

* * *

“You have such
adventures,
” Valentina said as they walked the distance to...Kate didn’t quite know where. All she knew was that Valentina had insisted that they leave the house immediately and just go, that it wasn’t too far for them to walk and that they would both enjoy an outing on such a sunny—if somewhat blustery—winter’s day. Sergeant Major Perkins, in the meantime, had done some insisting of his own. He had assured Kate that she would not be going anywhere without being escorted, and he’d promptly assigned the same hapless and perpetually startled young private who had brought the tea and cookies to the dining room to trail along.

The sun was indeed shining—albeit a weak sun—but the snow was still on the ground and there were icy patches where it had melted and frozen again. The wind cut sharply at times, and the private’s nose was soon red with the cold. He kept sniffing as they walked along. It was clear to Kate that he considered this duty to be some kind of torture, but she didn’t think it had anything to do with the walk or the weather. She thought it was primarily because he wanted to admire Valentina openly and he couldn’t, not with the firm knowledge of what Perkins would do to him if he were accused of gawking at Mrs. Kinnard’s daughter. Valentina looked especially impressive this morning in her blue velveteen coat and pert little hat covered in black net and emerald-green feathers.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Kate said, turning her attention back to Valentina.
Adventure
was not a word she associated with any aspect of her life.

“Well,
I
would. I don’t know
anyone
who ever got stranded without her dresses. You couldn’t have worn any of Maria’s, I suppose.”

“Not and maintain any sense of propriety,” Kate said, trying not to smile because the topic of conversation had apparently made the young private’s ears turn as red as his nose. “I’m a good two inches taller than she is.”

Valentina suppressed a giggle. “Can you imagine what my mother would say about
that?
”

Kate had no problem imagining it at all, but she didn’t say so. “I must go to the army headquarters first. I want to make sure my letters get sent out on the next train. And then where is it we’re going?”

“To the dressmaker’s of course—Mrs. Russell’s sister, that would be. She’s the best dressmaker in town. She does beautiful work. I think her business is quite prosperous now that more of the officer’s wives have come to share their husbands’ occupation duty. I wonder if they find it lonesome here—hardly anyone talks to them, you know. Just at church and one has to be civil there. Anyway, we can hope Mrs. Russell’s sister will have a few dresses mostly finished to carry you through until she can sew you some new ones. It’s sad how her husband died in the war—not in the fighting—from the measles. It seems very inappropriate for a soldier, doesn’t it? Dying of a child’s disease, like that— Were you very afraid?”

“Afraid? When?”

“When you found Robert Markham in the house that night. I would have been terrified, especially since I thought he was dead.”

“Well, he wasn’t conscious long enough to be threatening, and I didn’t know who he was.”

They walked for a time in silence, and at one point, because the ground was so icy, the young private had to offer them his arm as they maneuvered over the spot.

“What is your name?” Valentina asked him as she accepted his help—which caused his ears to redden again.

“Private Castine, miss,” he said.

“Thank you, Private Castine. You are a very diligent escort—for a Yankee boy.”

The private clearly chose to hear the compliment and not the insult in her remark, and blushed in earnest this time. Kate wondered if surviving an encounter with someone as dazzling as Valentina constituted yet another version of “seeing the elephant.”

The closer they came to the wide main street and the army headquarters building, the more soldiers there were on the sidewalks and in the alleys and doorways. Some of them seemed to have a purpose in being there—keeping watch for signs of trouble around the saloons, guarding army supply wagons waiting to be unloaded, directing the movement of various buggies and carriages through the deep mud and fresh manure—and some did not. And those were the ones Kate dreaded to encounter despite having an escort. She knew that Max had strict rules regarding the military’s behavior toward civilians, but she also knew Max was in New Bern and that even when he was not, there had been drunken incidents like the one involving the young officer who was in love with Mrs. Russell’s now officially forbidden daughter. Since her talk with Robert Markham, Kate could almost understand Mrs. Russell’s unyielding position. She had lost her beloved son to the war; she wasn’t about to lose her daughter, too.

How hard this all must be,
she suddenly thought—for ex-Rebels like Robert. His town, his very home—his sister—had been taken over by the enemy. And perhaps worse, all his suffering for the Confederacy had been for nothing. His prolonged absence had perhaps been driven by his need for solitude and freedom from other people’s expectations. If so, it was much like her own decision to miss the train, only on a much grander scale.

How strange, she thought, that she and an ex-Rebel soldier, though their situations were profoundly different, might feel the same.

Kate and Valentina continued their way toward the army headquarters, and apparently Max’s authority held fast today. Soldiers promptly stepped aside for her and Valentina whenever necessary, and none of them had anything coarse to say. She was able to deliver her letters to the sergeant on duty with no difficulty whatsoever.

When they came outside again, Valentina insisted on leading the way to the dressmaker’s, which, as near as Kate could understand from Valentina’s convoluted explanation, was somewhere near a church and less than a block off the main street. At least they were out of the wind much of the time now, and that made the going easier, but Valentina took so many shortcuts, Kate lost track of exactly where they were. Eventually she realized that the dressmaker was actually near the church she attended with Max and Maria every Sunday.