Josephine (5 page)

“How old are you?” he asked.

It took Jo a moment to answer. “Seventeen.”

“You’ve a mama nearby, I’m betting?”

Jo nodded. “Yes.”

“Does she let you have dinner with soldiers?”

“No.”

“Smart woman,” he offered in tandem with his heart-melting smile.

As an adolescent, Jo never understood why girls swooned every time Adam or his brother, Jeremiah, walked by. Now she did. Shaking herself free of his spell, she said, “I came to help you with your bag.”

“Thanks.”

Jo picked up the valise. It was heavy, but not so much so that she couldn’t lug it the short distance to the porch. When they reached the door, Jo set it down. “I’ll go and find Mrs. Oswald for you.”

His eyes were all she could see. She seemed to be drowning in them. It was an oddly pleasant feeling. Then remembering that this was Adam Morgan, she shook herself free again. “Nice meeting you, Adam.”

“Nice meeting you, as well, beautiful. You aren’t going to tell me your name.” It was a statement, not a question.

Jo smiled secretively. “No, but I’m certain you’ll learn it soon.”

Trudy had apparently come looking for Jo, because she suddenly appeared at Jo’s side. Jo sensed Trudy was about to say something, but upon seeing the man Jo was talking with, Trudy offered nothing but a look of utter surprise. Jo assumed Trudy recognized him, too. He didn’t seem to recognize Trudy though, if the polite but distant nod he sent Trudy’s way was any indication. Jo supposed she and Trudy did look different from the short, skinny, ringlet-wearing adolescents they’d been the last time he’d seen them. They were both taller and no longer skinny. Trudy was a bit more round than Jo, but they were young women now.

Before Trudy could open her mouth and ruin Jo’s game, Jo told Adam, “You go on inside and take a seat. I’ll fetch Mrs. Oswald. That is who you’re here to see?”

“Yes, the hospital in Detroit recommended I stay here until I recover.” But he seemed more intent upon Jo, and she could feel the interest as well as she could feel the breeze on her cheeks. She grabbed the still-staring Trudy’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get Mrs. Oswald.”

Once they got around to the back of the house, Trudy finally found her voice, “Jojo, that was Adam Morgan!”

“I know.”

Trudy then gushed. “Lord, did you ever see anyone so handsome?”

Jo had to admit she had not. “He doesn’t recognize either of us, though. He called me beautiful.”

Trudy stopped dead in her tracks. “He did?”

“Yes.” And as Jo recalled the incident now, she could still feel her insides shimmering like sun on the lake.

Jo and Trudy found Mrs. Oswald. She’d joined Cecilia, Belle and the other women sewing beneath the trees. Before Jo could say a word, Trudy announced quickly, “Mrs. Best, Adam Morgan is here!”

Cecilia and Belle sat up in surprise.

Trudy added, “He didn’t recognize us. He called Jo beautiful!”

Jo wanted to bop her friend in the head for revealing that, but nothing could be done about it now.

Cecilia echoed skeptically, “Beautiful?”

Jo waved her hand dismissively. “Mama, you remember how Adam and Jere were? No female was safe from their silver tongues. Well, apparently, nothing’s changed. Trudy’s right about him not recognizing us, though. He didn’t.”

Cecilia smiled. “Adam and Jere were handfuls. Always respectful, but they lived for turning a young lady’s head. Won’t he be surprised when he finds out who you two really are!”

Once he did, Jo doubted he would call her beautiful again, and for some reason that knowledge didn’t sit real well with her. Jo, however, thought it wise not to put any stock in whatever Adam had to say. She’d seen the Morgan brothers work their magic on young ladies for many years, and she personally had no desire to be put through her paces by a café-au-lait Casanova. Besides, she was supposed to be starting up with George. She wondered where he’d gotten to. She glanced around the grounds and saw that he was still engrossed in his chess game.

Mrs. Oswald rose to her feet, saying, “I should go and meet the young man and assign him a space.”

Cecilia and Belle got up, as well.

“You know, Patricia, I loved those Morgan boys as if they were my own,” Cecilia said to Mrs. Oswald. “Depending on how long Adam’s going to stay and what his plans are, I’d be willing to take him into my home. We’ve the room. Haven’t we, ladies?” Belle nodded enthusiastically. Jo wasn’t so sure about having the blarney-filled Adam Morgan under her roof.

Cecilia studied Jo for a silent moment, but Jo responded with a smile she hoped would allay any concerns. “That might be nice, Mama.”

Cecilia nodded. “Good. Then let’s go and see him.”

five

Seated
in the parlor alone, Adam Morgan glanced around at the room’s well-worn furnishings and threadbare rugs. The house wasn’t fancy, but it was clean and smelled pleasant. Having to recuperate here might not be too bad, he mused, then cast his mind back to the intriguing black-eyed beauty he’d just encountered. Why wouldn’t she reveal her name? Had she chosen to remain anonymous because she was married or perhaps engaged? Adam didn’t remember seeing any rings on her fingers, but knew that meant nothing. Many married and engaged women didn’t wear rings. No matter, though, he found her stunning and vowed to ask Mrs. Oswald about her as soon as possible.

Adam heard someone coming, and hoped it would be the young woman returning to tell him her name. Instead, Cecilia Best and Belle entered the room. The sight of their familiar faces filled him with such happiness and joy, he snatched up his crutches and struggled upright.

Cecilia came to him with open arms. “Oh, Adam. It’s so wonderful to see you.”

Adam embraced her as best he could and felt her love flow through him with such force it put a sheen of tears in his eyes. When she finally let him go, he said emotionally, “It’s good to see you again, as well.”

Then Belle stepped forward. She gave him a strong hug too. “Welcome home.”

Adam couldn’t believe they were here. The last time he’d seen the Best women had been more than five years ago. He and his older brother, Jeremiah, had been half in love with Belle back then, and she was still as lovely as he remembered. She’d been a fugitive slave living with the Bests. Thoughts of her resolve and spirit were what kept Adam and his brother Jeremiah from giving in to despair when they were illegally kidnapped by slave catchers and temporarily sold into bondage. He turned his mind away from that dark peroid in his life and back to the now. His family and the Bests had been close friends in those days. He, Jeremiah and Daniel had attended Oberlin together. Adam had planned to pay the Bests a visit just as soon as he was able to do so, but being surprised like this was better.

Adam’s thoughts then moved to Daniel’s little sister. What a little hellion she’d been. Everyone had lovingly called her Pest.

Adam turned to Cecilia and asked, “Where’s Jojo? Is she back at the house?”

Cecilia smiled. “No, this is Jo, right here.”

Jo stepped to her mother’s side and let him get a good look.

Adam blinked.

Jo smiled smugly.

Adam studied her as if he’d never seen her before. “You can’t be Jojo.”

He had such conviction in his voice, Jo was almost offended. “Why can’t I be?”

“Because—” Adam had trouble finding the words he wanted to say.

“Good answer. Where did you say you went to school again?”

His eyes sparkled, and he tossed back, “Pest.” The nickname came out so effortlessly, Adam had to laugh, as did Cecilia and the rest.

Jo said, “Adam Morgan, I want you to meet Trudy Carr.”

Adam’s eyes widened. “Pest Two!”

Trudy cut him a look, but she was smiling. “Welcome home, Adam.”

“Thanks. Lord, Trudy, you’re all grown up.”

His attention settled on Jo again. That she was who she claimed to be was mind-boggling. “Are you all sure this is Jojo?”

Jo, who had tried to make everyone stop calling her Jojo when she reached the age of fourteen, rolled her eyes.

Cecilia laughed. “We’re sure, Adam.”

Adam could not get over what a beauty little Josephine Best had blossomed into. The upswept hair, the soft, clear ebony skin. She’d gotten taller, as well, and he doubted there wasn’t a young man alive who wouldn’t be drawn to her. Were she anyone else, Adam would be doing his best to get her to agree to have dinner with him, or go on a picnic, or any other outing that would allow him to spend the day in her company. She was Daniel’s baby sister, however, and Adam thought it best he direct his interests elsewhere, even if he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her loveliness.

Jo could see Adam watching her. Even as Mrs. Oswald quizzed him on his injury, his gaze kept straying Jo’s way. Jo tried to be nonchalant, but his interest in her was plain to see.

When Mrs. Oswald finished her questions, she said to him, “Well, Mrs. Best has offered you a room in her home. Would you prefer to stay there?”

Adam was elated. He was sure Mrs. Oswald ran a good establishment, but being with the Bests would be like being home. “May I?” he asked Cecilia.

“Of course. We’ve room. You can stay for as long as you need to.”

Adam looked to Jo. “Do you mind having me underfoot for a while?”

“No.” Jo was lying, of course. He was handsome and gorgeous and all that, but she wasn’t certain she wanted him under her roof mesmerizing her with that smile of his. She sensed she was susceptible to it, and in spite of the interest he seemed to have in her now, Jo doubted it would last very long. Once he recovered, he’d be casting his net for prettier fish. She didn’t want to have to hit him over the head with a hair iron for breaking her heart.

The group spent a few more moments talking over the arrangements, then Jo asked, “How’s your brother, Jeremiah?”

“Faring well, I hope. I say that because I haven’t heard from him since April.”

“What unit is he with?” Belle asked.

“We were both with the Fifth Massachusetts Cavalry, but I was injured before they rode into Virginia. The newspapers said the Rebs and the rest of the unit are all right. Have you heard from Dani?”

Mrs. Best shook her head sadly. “Not in some time.”

Jo added, “Their last letter was from the Carolinas.”

Adam echoed Jo’s earlier advice. “If there was something wrong, you would have been notified. You’ll hear from them soon.”

“I pray you’re right, Adam,” Belle said softly.

Mrs. Oswald asked Adam, “Are you hungry? There’s plenty of food outside.”

“I’m famished, but I don’t wish to impose.”

“You aren’t imposing. The ladies from the church brought enough food to feed General Sherman’s troops. You can also make the acquaintance of my other boarders, even if you won’t be staying here with us.”

Adam looked over at Jo just long enough for her to feel touched by his gaze, before he replied to Mrs. Oswald, “I’d be honored to meet them.”

Outside, the visiting was still going on. Jo said to her mother, “I’m going to talk with George for a while.”

Before Mrs. Best could respond, Adam asked in an amused tone, “Who’s George?”

Trudy told him, “One of the soldiers. He’s sweet on Jo.”

Jo couldn’t believe Trudy. She shot her friend a look.

Adam raised an eyebrow as he asked Mrs. Best, “Have you properly quizzed this bounder about his intentions toward our Jojo?”

Jo’s mouth dropped at his words.

Mrs. Best laughed, however. “I have indeed, Adam. Now leave Jo alone. Run along, dear. We’ll take care of Adam.”

The soft devilment lighting Adam’s eyes made Jo inwardly fume. Pledging to ignore him for the rest of her life, she took Trudy firmly by the arm, and announced, “We’ll be back in a bit.”

Adam called out to her, “Jo?”

Grabbing hold of her last bit of patience, Jo turned back. “Yes?”

“It’s good to see you again.”

The sincerity in his velvet voice made her heart flip and flop. Her own voice came out softer than she intended. “It’s good to have you home, too.”

She and Trudy headed across the yard. Jo sensed Trudy was about to say something, so Jo said warningly, “Don’t say a word, Trudy. Not one word.”

Trudy didn’t, but she did smile.

Jo put Adam out of her mind as she and Trudy walked over to where some of the soldiers and a few of the other young women from the church were gathered. They joined the group just in time to hear Dred declare, “I have a riddle.”

Trudy said, “Then let’s hear it.”

Dred’s deep, dark eyes met Trudy’s, then he began, “A soldier gets married. Now, before he marches off he promises his bride he’ll write to her every day. He keeps his promise. He writes her every day. Well, six months pass and he gets a letter from her saying she’s married someone else. Who’d she marry?”

Jo and Trudy turned to each other. Neither had a clue. Jo looked around and saw that most of the soldiers had knowing smiles on their faces.

Jo asked, “Are we ladies the only ones who don’t know the answer?”

The men nodded. Jo met George’s eyes. He gave her a smile, but her heart’s reaction to it seemed surprisingly tame in comparison to the heady reaction she’d had with Adam. Jo hastily set that observation aside and brought her mind back to the present just in time to hear Trudy say, “All right, we give up. Who did she marry?”

The men’s voices rang out in unison, “The mailman!”

The young ladies laughed. Jo made a note to pass it on to her mother and to Belle.

As the laughter faded, George asked, “Miss Josephine, we’ve carried the piano outside. Would you play for us?”

Trudy dug her elbow into Jo’s ribs. Jo tried to ignore her. “I’d be happy to play.”

When Jo was young, she hadn’t enjoyed playing the piano. Piano lessons took her away from climbing trees, fishing and trailing after Dani and the Morgans. Her mother refused to let her quit the lessons, however, insisting the musical skill would come in handy one day; Jo supposed those days were here. She enjoyed being able to play for the men.

Jo sat down upon the piano stool and placed her hands on the keys. She played a few simple pieces to warm up her fingers. George came over to stand by the piano. She acknowledged him with a smile, then asked, “What would you like me to play?”

One of the men called out, “How about, ‘When Johnny Comes Marching Home’?”

“Good choice.”

Jo dove into the keys. The song, a favorite of the Union soldiers, was sung aloud and boisterously by the men, especially the “hurrahs.” After the song had been sung a few times, Dred asked her to play “Tramp, Tramp, Tramp,” another popular war tune. Its lyrics centered around a soldier writing to his mother from his prison cell.

Soon, they were singing “Oh Susannah,” “Pop Goes the Weasel” and “Jimmy Crack Corn.” The program ended with the spirited verses of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

When the piano quieted, Jo could see tears standing in the eyes of nearly everyone: the soldiers as well as the women who’d gathered. Over the course of the war, the hymn had become a rallying cry for those fighting and for their loved ones waiting at home. Many of the men commented on how they’d sung the hymn in the heat of battle, and how much strength they’d drawn from its words. Jo thought about her father and brother somewhere singing the hymn, and hoped it would give them strength, too.

Trudy, like Jo, must have sensed the melancholy in the air because she stood and clapped excitedly. “Who wants to play checkers with me?”

Her question broke the mood. Jo could’ve kissed her. The checkerboards were brought out, and the men were now all jockeying to see who would play first with Trudy and the other young ladies from the church.

George, however, stayed where he was. “You play very well, Miss Josephine.”

“Thank you, George.”

“Nothing better than a pretty girl behind a piano.”

Jo grinned.

“Do you cook as well as you play?” he asked.

Jo laughed. “No, I’m a terrible cook.”

“You are?”

“Honestly, yes. My mother has all but given up on me ever learning to do it properly. I suppose I shall have to learn someday, but now I’m rarely allowed to do anything in the kitchen besides reheating leftovers.”

He was staring at her as if she had suddenly started speaking in Greek. “All women can cook.”

“No, George, they can’t.” Jo studied his face. “Is that all the women do where you come from, play the piano and cook?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I never said there was, but women have other options also.”

“But a woman’s place is in the home.”

Jo felt some of the air going out of the balloon she’d been floating for George. She sighed. “So in your world, women don’t attend college?”

“Not women who want to be wives.”

Jo shook her head.

George asked, “Don’t you want to be a wife?”

“Maybe after I get my business going in the direction I’ve envisioned, but being a wife is not my only goal. It wasn’t how I was raised.”

“I see.”

He looked disappointed, but no more disappointed than Jo, who said, “Maybe we should talk about something else?”

He appeared relieved. “Sounds like a good idea.”

Jo cast around for a safer topic. “Do you play an instrument?”

“Nope. I like music, though. Maybe sometime you could teach me a few tunes.”

“I’d be happy to.”

An awkward silence settled between them. George said finally, “I’d like to get to know you better, Miss Josephine.”

“Even though I went to Oberlin,” Jo teased.

He had the decency to drop his head. “Even though you went to Oberlin.”

Jo felt the earlier tension dissipate. “I think I’d like that, George.”

“Do you think your mama would allow me to call on you?”

Jo shrugged. “She commented on how nice you seemed.”

He let out a breath. “That’s great news.”

Jo grinned. “Were you worried?”

“I was. Had I a daughter as pretty as you, I’d be protective.”

“She is that, but she has had only kind things to say about you.”

“Well, do I have your permission to approach her about visiting you?”

Jo had never had anyone ask her that before. “Yes, you have my permission,” she replied quietly.

“Good. We’ll see what she says.”

Jo nodded, then said, “I should join the others.”

His face was understanding. “All right. I’m going to find a few strong backs to help take the piano back inside, and then gather my courage to talk to your mother. Wish me luck?”

“I do.”

He hobbled off on his cane. Jo stood and watched him depart. That had certainly been an eye-opening conversation, she mused. Surely he couldn’t be that old-fashioned in his views on women. Jo was confident she could change his outdated thinking, so she hoped her mama would let him visit. Jo did enjoy George’s company.