Everlasting Light - A Civil War Romance Novella (7 page)

“My, my …” Jennifer Marie tipped her head. “I believe you’re the first Christian I ever did know to make a mistake. I thought Christians were holier than God Almighty.”

“Hardly. God is our standard, true, but we fall far short of His grace and glory.”

“You mean you’re not perfect?”

“Did I ever claim to be?” Alaina wiped the tear drizzling down her cheek.

“Well, no …” Jennifer blushed slightly. “It’s just that you’re always so … so good. My cousin Braeden is the same way. He’s genuinely good. Why, he’s the only one on my mother’s side of the family who’s ever cared about me.”

Alaina dabbed at more of the gathering moisture in her eyes. “He will never ask me to marry him, seeing what I’ve done.”

“He’d be a fool to let a little thing like this—”

“Laina? Laina, it’s me.” Braeden knocked. “Come out here and speak with me.”

Jennifer Marie smiled. “See I told you.”

Alaina reached for the doorknob.

“No.” Jennifer Marie’s gloved hand halted her. “I’ll handle the brute.” She sashayed to the door and opened it very slowly. “Go away, Braeden.”

“I want to talk to Alaina.”

“She’s … well, she can’t talk.”

“Why not?”

“She’s crying her eyes out, that’s why. Shame on you. You’re a veritable beast!”

“Jennifer Marie—” There was warning in his tone. “—I insist that you step aside and let me see Alaina.”

“You have no right to insist. Are you engaged? No. Married? No. As for Alaina and Michael … well, I don’t know why you’re so upset. It isn’t as if you’ve
proposed marriage
.”

Behind the door, Alaina could practically hear Braeden seething.

“I want to speak with her.”

Jennifer Marie looked her way and winked. “There, there, honey, don’t sob like that. Your sweet face will get all red and blotchy.” She turned back to her cousin. “Excuse me. I must tend to Alaina. She’s distraught.”

“Then I ought to be the one doing the tending.”

Jennifer Marie moved to shut him out, but Braeden stuck his booted foot in the doorframe.

“I want to speak to Alaina.”

“But you’re the cause of her suffering.”

“Laina?” he called despite the feminine blockade of white silk and ruffles between them. “Laina-honey, now I didn’t mean to make you cry. I was just … well, I was jealous! Now come out here and talk to me where I can see you.”

Jennifer Marie donned a winning smile. She turned and, taking Alaina’s wrist, hauled her toward the threshold. “I think you two ought to kiss and make up this instant. You’re splendid together, can’t you see that?”

Alaina brought her chin up and chanced a peek at Braeden from beneath damp lashes. Her handsome, blond Confederate soldier stared back at her with thoughtful, questioning brown eyes.

“Is that true, Laina?” he asked softly. “Are we splendid together?”

She managed a weak nod, feeling her chin quiver ever so slightly. “I’m so sorry about tonight. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Truly, I didn’t.”

“No, no … and I was wrong to say what I did. I guess some things between Michael and me haven’t changed since we were twelve years old.” Braeden held out his hand to her. When Alaina took it, he drew her into his arms. “I love you, Laina. I’ve loved you since the first night we met.”

“I love you, too.”

A dreamy sigh came from Jennifer Marie.

“Will you marry me?” Braeden searched her face beneath the soft glow of the wall sconce. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes … yes, of course I will.” The surge of joy inside of Alaina made her feel giddy.

Lowering his head, Braeden kissed her with promise.

“I’m so happy for you two.” Jennifer Marie clapped her gloved hands. “In fact, this is the happiest day of my life!”

Mine too!
Alaina clung to her new fiancé. She couldn’t wait to become Mrs. Braeden McKenna.

Chapter 8

Alaina scanned the deserted dirt road and distinctly remembered the last time she’d seen her husband. It was going on two years.

It was in the spring of ’64, and Braeden was faithfully serving in the cavalry on South Carolina’s coast. He’d been granted a couple days’ leave—a reward for reenlisting. Sipping strong coffee on the back porch as the nippy April wind swirled around the treetops, Braeden filled her in on everything the newspapers had failed to report about the war. He said it was amazing that most of the state remained untouched by all the fighting. He still believed the South could win, despite its devastating loss eight months earlier at Gettysburg.

A great sadness enveloped her now as she turned her gaze to the dreary December sky. Zeke confirmed that Braeden had been wounded, but he wasn’t dead … until the Yankees captured him. Alaina closed her eyes against the horrors she’d heard about Federal prison camps and emaciated Confederate soldiers. There was little hope that Braeden made it out alive—especially since he’d been injured first. The hardiest of men returned from Yankee prisons resembling mere shadows of their former selves. Surely Braeden was dead.

“Alaina!”

She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of her mother-in-law’s voice. Moments later, Mama McKenna appeared at the doorway.

“What are you doing out there? You’re liable to catch your death.”

“I’d welcome it.” She looked back out toward the road, ignoring Mama McKenna’s exasperated sigh.

“You’ve been more melancholy than ever since Zeke came home with news of Braeden’s capture. Develop some backbone, my dear. I’ve lost two sons, but do you see me wallowing in self-pity? No. Now, here …” The older woman stepped onto the porch and thrust a jar at her. “Take this vegetable soup over to the Wheeler place and make yourself useful. Jonathan and Zeke are over there trying to help Michael out, and I promised those men I’d fix supper.”

Alaina obediently took the large container.

“And while you’re on your way, you might try counting your blessings for a change.” Wisps of faded lyard blonde hair blew onto Mama McKenna’s aging cheek. “Our home wasn’t burned. The Yankees didn’t find our personal valuables. We’re luckier than most.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Alaina’s eyes filled at the sting of her mother-in-law’s rebuke. She crossed the yard tearfully and started down the road. Off in the distance, she heard hammering as Papa McKenna and Zeke attempted to help Michael rebuild his home. The task was a daunting one. Half of the Wheeler house had been ruined by fire, and since timber and sundry other supplies were no longer available, re-construction was nearly an impossibility.

As she walked on, Alaina’s thoughts turned to Jennifer Marie. One of the more precious memories she held dear to her heart was the day her friend became a believer in Christ.

It was back in ’62 and Jennifer Marie had just learned that the man she’d fallen in love with, Major Uriah Perkins, had been killed. He’d been the officer she’d met at her aunt’s party the night Braeden proposed, and it wasn’t long after Alaina’s marriage that Jennifer Marie was making great wedding plans of her own.

******

Alaina stopped to watch her friend’s buggy roll up the gravely road to the McKennas’ house and lurch to a halt. Jennifer Marie stepped out, wearing a stunning black ensemble that caused Alaina’s knees to weaken in trepidation.

“It’s not Braeden, is it, Jennifer Marie?” Alaina all but forgot about her chores. “Please, tell me it’s not Braeden.”

“No, it’s … it’s Uriah.” Sorrow pooled in her eyes. “A neighbor brought this to me last evening. Look.”

Alaina took the crumpled sheet bearing a list of names of the dead. Yes, Uriah’s name was among them. Braeden’s was not. Feeling relieved for herself and a deep, heart-piercing sadness for her friend, Alaina burst into tears. “Oh, Jennifer Marie. I am so sorry to read this news.”

They embraced and then, with her arm around her dear friend’s shoulders, Alaina led her into the house. Leaving Jennifer Marie in the parlor, Alaina brewed a pot of tea. Minutes later, Mama McKenna joined them for a cup, fussing over Jennifer Marie as any concerned auntie would do but to no avail. Jennifer Marie could not be consoled.

“D–do you th–think Uriah’s in h–heaven?” she stammered in between sobs.

“I couldn’t say.” Mama McKenna spoke in gentle tones. “I didn’t know the man.”

“He was good and kind … the most wonderful man on earth. Why, Uriah hated the thought of killing— even killing Yankees. He was an upstanding, moral person who never even once tried to take liberties with me—even when I wished he would.”

Alaina couldn’t help smiling inwardly at the remark.

“Those are fine characteristics for a man,” Mama McKenna began, “but they don’t guarantee a home in Heaven. Only faith in the Lord Jesus Christ can do that.”

“Maybe Uriah was baptized as an infant like I was.”

“That’s a fine tradition, but if being baptized as an infant could save a person’s soul, our Lord would not have had to go to the cross and suffer for our sins.” Mama McKenna stood and fetched her worn, leather-bound Bible. Sitting back down, she ruffled through its delicate pages. “Here … listen to this. It’s from the third chapter in the Book of Romans.
For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God; Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus: Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past … To declare, I say, at this time his righteousness: that he might be just, and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus.
”

Looking up from God’s Word, Mama McKenna gave Jennifer Marie a warm smile. “It doesn’t say a person ought to be baptized in order to enter the kingdom of God, does it? It says that Jesus is the justifier for all who will believe in Him.”

“I don’t feel a bit better.” Jennifer Marie dabbed at her swollen eyes with a lace handkerchief. “I don’t know if Uriah believed that or not.”

“My dear, it’s not our place to judge.” Mama McKenna took hold of her niece’s hand. “But you can choose your eternal destination here and now.”

******

Alaina snapped from her musings as Michael’s house came into view. Walking up the stony dirt road, she smiled to herself, remembering how Jennifer Marie had accepted God’s free gift of salvation—His Son, Jesus Christ.

How fortunate you are, Jennifer Marie, to be in Heaven with the Savior.

“Well, look who’s come to pay me a social call.” Michael’s voice carried across the wintery brown lawn. He jumped from the two-foot ledge on which he’d been working and dropped his hammer. The left side of his white shirt sleeve was pinned halfway up, and Alaina marveled at how much Michael accomplished in spite of missing a limb. “If I knew you were coming, Lain, I would have set out the tea cakes in the parlor here.” His eyes twinkled with mischief before he nodded toward the scorched end of his home.

Alaina shook her head at him, wondering how he could make such a flip remark about something as dreadful as a burned-out parlor. “I brought you, Papa McKenna, and Zeke some soup.” When she reached the porch, she handed him the jar.

“How very kind, thank you. But you just missed your father-in-law. He started back to your place through the field several minutes ago.”

“I guess Papa McKenna will have his soup at home, then.”

Narrowing his gaze, Michael searched her face. Alaina turned away, brushing a few strands of hair off her cheek.

“You’ve been crying again.”

“What’s not to cry about?” She brushed off his concern, stepped onto the porch, and inspected the site for new repairs. “How are things coming along here?”

“Coming along fine, but very slowly. If I could finish boarding up these windows, the cold winter wind won’t be able to howl through the rest of the house.” He looked skyward. “I think we’re in for some weather. Rain, maybe snow.”

Alaina pulled her woolen cape around her more tightly. “You could always stay with us, Michael.”

He fixed his gaze on her and grinned. “Jonathan said the same thing just this morning. He said I could have Kirk’s room. But, I … well, I don’t think that’s a wise idea, considering how I feel about you, Lain.”

She looked away, flattered, and yet her heart crimped painfully. While evidence seemed to indicate that Braeden was dead, she didn’t want to accept it. But perhaps it was time to force herself to do so. Maybe Mama McKenna was right—maybe she needed to “develop some backbone” and get on with her life.

Glancing back at Michael, she noted his ardent expression and the light of sincerity in his chocolate-brown eyes. He loved her. It was obvious. Maybe she should just marry him and make up her mind to be happy again.

“Why, Miz Laina, I didn’t know you was here.” Zeke came to stand in the front doorway.

”I didn’t realize you were still either, Zeke.” She mustered a smile. “Mama McKenna made some vegetable soup and asked me to run it over.”

“Warm soup … that sounds good.” He glanced at Michael and grinned. “Lemme help you with the container.”

Michael handed it over

Zeke motioned Alaina inside. “Get yourself outa the wind. You’re liable to catch a chill.”

She stepped into the house. Michael entered after her. There were stairs to the immediate right that led up to the second floor. To the left, the parlor and dining room were boarded off to keep the December wind at bay. She walked down the corridor, where pieces of salvaged furniture and Michael’s damaged paintings lined the wall. Her heart sank at the sight of ruined artwork. Moving on, she strode into the kitchen area. Beyond it stood the charred remains of the cookhouse.

“One of the bedrooms upstairs is now safe enough for me to sleep in,” Michael said, coming up behind her, “so I don’t have to sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“Such devastation.” Alaina whirled around, facing him. “Those Yankees had no cause to do such evil to our homes and our land.”

“It’s war, Lain. What do you think happens in a war? Death and destruction.”

“Hmph! Maybe women ought to run the next war. Things would be a far sight better.”

Michael’s chuckle echoed through the empty room. “Now
that
would be a