Into the Light (5 page)

“Well, he’s pretty enough to inspire a spirited defense from someone who won’t look at ordinary men,” Uncle Eli said with a grin.

Aunt Lucy didn’t touch his arm but elbowed him in the ribs. He kept smiling, and so did everyone else around the table.

Deborah hoped the heat spreading across her cheeks and over the top of her ears wasn’t visible as a blush and feared it was.

“A man doesn’t have to be in a war to have gunfire turn him around. I turned a few around myself back in the day, and anyone who says he’s a coward is a flannel-mouthed fool. He was going on guts alone by the time we started shooting.” Caleb paused to swallow a spoonful of his soup then added, “I can’t judge how pretty he is, but I can see his father in him. He has the old man’s ears.”

Sounds of disbelief came from around the table.

“I’m telling you, I had to grab hold of one of Van Cleve’s ears once. They’re uncommonly small and close to his head and so are the son’s.” Caleb fingered one of his own full-sized ears as he talked. “He’s got the old man’s chin too. His mother’s is more pointy like.”

“You certainly remember Mrs. Van Cleve’s chin well after all these years,” Norah said frostily.

This time Caleb patted her arm. It didn’t work as well for him as it had for her.

Uncle Jason, ever the peacemaker, tried to help Caleb out. “Whatever else he is, he’s an uncommonly good shot. If he gets his health back, he might just beat you next year.”

“Not unless he gets a rifle with longer range. I won’t get caught short on ammunition again, so if he can stay on his feet, and if he’s as good as I think he is, we’ll go past 500 yards next year.”

Thank goodness Uncle Jason succeeded in moving everyone to speculation about next year. The waiter whisked away her empty soup bowl and replaced it with a plate of what must be pickerel in wine sauce.

Deborah took a tentative first bite. Not bad. Different.

Now if she could just find the courage to go ahead with her plans for tonight.

J
AMIE’S RENTED ROOM
was small, and the washroom was down the hall, but the walls were freshly painted a soothing blue, the place smelled like floor wax, and the few pieces of furniture were decent.

Trey particularly appreciated the soft bed Jamie dumped him on top of when they got back from the contest. Appreciated it so much he slept there like death until he heard Jamie returning and woke to a room dim in early evening light.

He yawned and watched Jamie change into a fresh shirt and fuss with the collar.

“If you’re back among the living, get your arse out of my bed and come along and have some supper with Miss Tindell and me.”

“You said she was through toying with you.”

“She is. Now she’s going to ease my broken heart with one last romantic evening before she leaves tomorrow.”

“They’re really sending her away that fast?”

“They are.”

“Then why are they foolish enough to let her have one last romantic evening with you?”

“They aren’t. She’s spending the evening with her lady friends.”

“Aah.”

“Yes, aah. Now get up and come along.”

“If I come along, you won’t get your romantic reward. I’ll get up and get something to eat, Granny. I promise.”

Jamie gave him an assessing look. “And then what. Back here?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I have a quiet place all picked out, and I’m going to sit and watch the fireworks like the rest of the town.”

“There’s a lot of men celebrating with drink by now,” Jamie said, working on his tie, “and most of them don’t much like your family.”

“Afraid I can’t run fast enough to get away?”

“I’m afraid you haven’t got enough sense to run. Come with us. It’s going to get dark enough I can steal a kiss or two whether you’re there or not, and the lady isn’t more generous than that.”

“Thanks anyway. I’m not going to try to defend my family’s non-existent honor, or mine, such as it is. There’s a bench behind the town hall where I can sit and see the fireworks, and I’ll stop at the café down the street on the way there. Okay, Granny?”

Jamie didn’t look happy, but he put his jacket on over the fresh shirt and left. Trey sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, still yawning.

If he was going out, he needed more than a fresh shirt and collar. Whether the grit on his scalp was dirt or gunpowder, it needed to go, and his mouth tasted as if he hadn’t used a toothbrush since New York.

He needed to scrub from head to toe and get into the last of the clean clothes he’d brought to town with him.

Maybe he’d just get something to eat, come back here, and sleep some more. His mystery woman wouldn’t be waiting on a bench behind the town hall. She wouldn’t join him if he waited there. She’d said her family lived so far from town they only came in occasionally for supplies or special occasions.

Then again, what could be more special than the last Fourth of July of the Nineteenth Century? She must be in town with her family tonight, somewhere in the crowd gathering in the park to watch the fireworks. No one would come near the town hall.

Thinking about her, he shook his head ruefully at his own stubborn foolishness. The false image he’d conjured up that night of a pretty young woman with intelligence obvious in her face hadn’t faded over the months but settled in his mind as truth. He shouldn’t want to meet her again, maybe see her and shatter the illusion, but he did.

Damn it. You could expect a sick man to obsess over an unsuitable woman, but a recovering man should have more sense, and he
was
recovering. His appetite was back. He’d actually gained a few pounds in the last weeks.

Still berating himself as seven kinds of a fool, Trey rose and headed down the hall.

S
HE WAS LIKE
the boy who cried, “Wolf!” After years of pleading headaches, fatigue, and other obscure ailments to escape any gathering larger than a family dinner, Deborah couldn’t make a single person believe she didn’t feel well enough to walk a few blocks to the park.

She massaged her temples, not just for show. If they didn’t stop fussing at her, the headache would soon be real.

“Deborah, honey, please do come with us,” Aunt Emma begged. “You know what happened last year will never happen again.”

“I know, but I can see everything from the yard here, and the sounds won’t be so loud. If bursts of light make the headache worse, I can lie down and rest. Please, Aunt Em, go on. I’ll be fine.”

Deborah avoided looking at either of her sisters. The others might argue, but they only suspected Deborah of being Deborah. Given half a chance, Judith or Miriam might guess what she was up to, or something close to it.

They all left, finally. Parts of the family were staying with Judith and William or with Miriam and Joseph. Caleb, Norah, and their three children were at the hotel, and they’d all soon meet at the park on the south edge of town, chatting and laughing, ready to ooh and aah over bursts of colored fire lighting up the sky.

Inventing aches and pains to get out of large social events, or at least remain at the edges, had never bothered Deborah before, but she couldn’t pretend this was a small fib. She had just lied to people who loved her in order to do something she wasn’t sure she should do or had the courage to do. Worse, the desire to do it was plain silly.

If only her stranger were the age of Van Cleve the Third, she wouldn’t feel so foolish. Not that she was
interested
in him. She couldn’t be. She couldn’t be interested in any man, but her stranger was interesting, which was different. And he was sympathetic. No, empathetic. And his voice....

She was being silly, female, and foolish. She would stay right here the way she had promised she would. She could remember the conversation with him here the same as she had at home a hundred times.

After all he wouldn’t be there. He had returned from the East and college to spend time with a family that lived far from Hubbell. He had only been in town the night of Miriam’s wedding to visit a friend.

Even if he was still staying with his family and even if he had come to town again for today’s celebrations, he’d watch the fireworks in the park along with everyone else. The town hall sat dark and empty tonight. No one would be there.

Foolish or not, she left her best dress on and wished she had given in to Aunt Em’s oft-stated desire to replace the aging gold dress with something more stylish, a more complimentary color. Which had to be the silliest wish she’d ever had. No one would see her. No one would be in the little garden behind the hall.

Still, she wanted to sit in the place where it had happened again, remember his voice, his words, the way talking to him made her feel.

If she let herself dwell on the memory of the drunk and his friend and thoughts of how many like them would be on the streets tonight, her nerve would fail. Deborah floated out of the house and down the front walk wrapped in a cloud of her own nerves, icy hands and feet unaffected by the hot summer night.

A laughing group of young people approached, stragglers on their way to the park. Deborah paused by Miriam’s front gate until they passed, then followed as close as she dared. Let anyone watching think she was part of the group.

Her unwitting chaperons led the way right to the town hall. No moon lit the walk around the dark building. Clouds hid even the stars. Her footsteps on the gravel path crunched so loudly she half-expected her family to hear, come running, and drag her to the park, scolding all the way.

At last. Her outstretched hand touched the rough back of the same wood bench she had occupied the night of Miriam’s wedding.

A trace of spicy, masculine scent drifted to her on the warm air. Could scent be nothing but a memory?

She scanned the shadows under the trees, afraid to believe what her eyes told her was the blacker shadow of a man on the opposite bench, even more afraid the shadow was the wrong man until he spoke.

“I hoped we’d meet again, but I didn’t dare hope it would be tonight.”

A wave of pure joy washed away nerves and fear. “Oh! I didn’t expect you to be here either, but I....” How could she explain being here without embarrassing herself? “It will be one big crowd in the park, and it’s quiet here.”

His low laughter rippled over her like a caress. “And you don’t like crowds. I’d forgotten about that, but I’m glad of it now, and I’m glad you’re here. But tell me you didn’t walk here by yourself tonight.”

“I-I didn’t. I was with a group of people right until I reached the hall.”

“And they left you here by yourself?”

“Not exactly. I escaped again.”

“You esc.... Is that how you think of it? As escaping from where you’re expected to be? Doesn’t your family miss you?”

“Oh, no. Most of the time they know where I am. Tonight, though, they do think I’m at my sister’s house. They wouldn’t approve of my being here any more than you do.”

“But I do approve of you being here. I just don’t like to think of you getting here without a safe escort.”

“I really did come with a group.”

“Mm hm.”

The sound he made was full of disbelief, but at least he dropped the subject. Sort of. She moved around the bench and sat.

“Last time we talked, when you said you had escaped, I didn’t think you were serious.”

“I wasn’t. Not really. Saying I escape makes it sound as if someone forces me to go places I don’t want to, and that’s not true.” She paused then decided to tell the whole truth. “My aunt and my sisters lure me and bribe me and try to convince me I’ll have a good time. By the time I was ten, I realized it’s easier to go along with them and then slip away than to hold out for peace and quiet to start with.”

“Clever lady.”

“Have you ever been in the park for the fireworks?” Deborah asked. She didn’t wait for him to admit he hadn’t. “Every square foot of the park has a person sitting on it, and last year boys lit firecrackers and threw them right in the crowd.” Uncle Eli’s boys, but she wasn’t mentioning that. “There was screaming and shouting, and some of them exploded right next to me and frightened me out of my wits.”

“Were you hurt?” He sounded upset at the thought.

“No, but the sparks burned holes in my skirt and ruined my dress. Everyone fussed over it the rest of the night and most of the next day. It spoiled the evening and the whole trip to town.”

“They fussed too much, and it embarrassed you.”

How could a stranger understand what her family never did? “Yes, exactly. I wasn’t hurt, but you’d think I had an arm blown right off. I really do love them dearly, but they’re — overwhelming.”

“Aah. Overwhelming. That’s a good word for family sometimes.” His voice was as she remembered, wrapping the two of them in a private, intimate world.

For the past two months, in her imagination,
in her dreams
, he was a friend, a real friend who knew her secrets and didn’t care. Before she could stop them, words spilled out as if that were true.

“They treat me as if I’m simple minded and delicate to boot. Any woman who would rather read a book than pore over fashion pictures in
Godey’s
or
Harper’s Bazaar
has something wrong with her. A woman’s whole life is supposed to center on finding a husband, and since mine doesn’t, it’s lacking, and I need to be guarded or guided — I’m never sure which — but all they do is make me want them to leave me alone that much more.”

Hearing the passion in her own voice and realizing what she had just revealed to a stranger, Deborah felt heat race across her cheeks and blessed the darkness of the night. “I’m sorry. I should never.... I can’t believe I just....”

“Don’t be sorry. I understand all about how family can make you want to run away and never come back. I even tried it once. At least your people have good intentions.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Deborah said tartly.

“It often is.”

A soft whistle sounded in the distance. Deborah forgot he wouldn’t see her and pointed to the south as a fountain of golden fire shot across the sky.