Marna (32 page)

Egan spotted her across the room and, smiling,
raised his glass of wine in a toast to her beauty. Grinning, she made a small bow. Then the other men in the
room, drawn by the passion that still lingered on her
face and smudged her eyes, gathered around her, making it impossible for her to move. As they jostled and
pushed to get nearer her, they watched each other with
jealousy. Who had stamped that look on her face?
None of them had been successful yet in luring her to
their rooms.

Marna accepted a glass of wine pushed into her
hand, thinking how well guarded her father's help had
kept her secret. Egan had insisted that no one but his
most trusted employees should know about her long
hunter husband.

Marna's laughter grew wilder and louder as more
and more wine was consumed. Often her musical trill
was heard above the others, and she would catch
Egan's disapproving frown and Betsy's look of concern.
As usual, Marna didn't get to bed until the early hours
of the morning.

As the weeks went by, Marna was drawn more and
more into Philadelphia's gay play world. At first she
welcomed it; anything to keep her.from thinking about
Matt. She had lost her battle completely, trying to push
him from her mind.

But it had seemed at first she might be successful,
partying all night and sleeping all day. Then a growing
restlessness took root inside her. Even her sleep was
restless. She had dreams that were full of confusion. A
world where she shared the arms of both Matt and
Aaron. They always started with Matt beside her, his
arms and lips cruel and demanding. She would cry out
in anguish and despair, and the lips would turn gentle,
but urging. Uttering a small sound of pleasure then, she
would mover closer in the circle of Aaron's arms. As
the mixed-up dreams continued almost nightly, she
reached a point where she couldn't look at Aaron without blushing guiltily.

Having a rare breakfast one morning, her small dining table set up in front of the fire, she gave serious
thought to the dark, intense gambler. More and more
he watched her. His knowing eyes seemed to search her
face as though waiting for that moment she might
weaken.

She stirred her tea absentmindedly, asking herself
whether it would happen. It was close to a month now since Matt had made his wild love to her. He had
stirred emotions that now lay dormant, waiting to be
aroused again. Sometimes she awakened in the middle
of her dreams with an ache in her loins that would surely
consume her. And the gambler, well aware of her need,
was merely biding his time.

She gave a start when a knock sounded on her
anteroom door. Without waiting for an invitation, Egan
and Betsy entered. There was a glow about them as
they stood smiling at her. Almost jealous of their contentment with each other, Marna said crossly, "You
two look awfully pleased with yourselves. What have
you been up to?"

Her silk gown rustling, Betsy sat down on the arm of
Marna's chair, and Egan took a seat across from her.
Marna poured them a cup of tea, eyeing them quizzically. They had something they were dying to tell her.
Smiling shyly, Betsy broke the silence. "Marna, me and
the big galoot are going to be married this afternoon."

The teapot still in her hands and her mouth partly
open, Marna stared at Betsy. The smile left Betsy's
face, replaced by a hurt look in her eyes. Egan
squirmed uncomfortably, eyes narrowing. Irritation in
his voice, he asked, "Aren't you pleased, Marna?"

The unconscious appeal in his voice released Mama's
tongue. Throwing her arms around Betsy's waist and
stretching a hand to Egan, she exclaimed, "Of course
I'm pleased. I just couldn't talk for a minute. You're
perfect for each other, and your marriage together is
going to be perfect." She couldn't help teasing. "Besides, it's about time you two made your carrying-on
legal."

Egan whacked her knuckles and Betsy gave her hair
a tug, joking, "Now is that any way to talk to your
future mother?"

Egan joined their laughter, remarking as he stood up,
"You look like a mother."

Betsy flashed him an impudent grin. "Is that right?
What would you do if I should present you with a
son?"

Egan's face was comical as the thought grew on him.
By God, it was possible he could be a father again.
Betsy was a young woman, still in her twenties. Hell,
she could give him half a dozen children.

He bent a look on his mistress, different from any he
had ever given her. As he took her arm and started
toward the door, there was a new gentleness in his
touch.

Betsy turned at the door to say, "Be ready by three.
You're standing up for me, you know."

Marna nodded and asked, "Who's standing with
Pa?"

"Aaron," Egan answered, closing the door behind
them.

"Oh," Marna murmured weakly, staring at the door.

Turning back to her now-cold toast, Marna started
as the door opened again. The young maid moved
toward her, a letter in her hand. "It's from Valley
Forge, Miss," she said, handing over the soiled envelope.

Grandma or Caleb? Marna wondered as she ripped
open the white square. A happy smile lit up her face as
she recognized Hertha's handwriting. Moving to a chair
by the window and pulling her feet up under her, she
read:

Feb. 1778
Valley Forge

Dear Mama, Egan, and Betsy,

I have only a few minutes to write this, I am so
busy with my poor lads. But I wanted you to know
Matt and I arrived safe. Thankfully I report the
boys are improving. No more have died. Matt and
Caleb are out every day hunting. The rich broth made from the deer is going a long way in their
recovery.

May God forgive my happiness, Marna, but I
have learned that Emery is dead. So, when I'm
finished here, I'll be returning to Kentucky. I miss
my peaceful hills so much.

Marna, please give considerable thought to returning home also. Matt tells me that Howe is winter quartered in Philadelphia and that when we
march against him, it will be a bloody battle. When
that time comes, I would like for you to be with me.

Your loving Grandma

So the old devil is dead, Marna thought, returning the
letter to its envelope. At least Grandma would have a
few peaceful years in her beloved hills. She leaned
her head on the back of the chair, wishing that she
would be going with her. Not because of the war, but
for the hills themselves. Everyone knew that Howe was
winter camped at the edge of town. He had even been
seen riding with his mistress. But the townspeople had
faith in their army and assured each other that Washington would never let a battle move inside their city.

Cast into a gloom over Hertha's mention of Matt,
she rose and moved to the window. The huge maple
just outside was green with fat buds ready to leaf out
with the first bright rays of sunshine. Glancing up at the
gray sky, she doubted that the sun would shine soon. It
looked as though the long spring rains would start any
day.

About to turn back into the room, she was halted by
the sight of a rider coming up the cobbled street. He
wore the buckskin garb of a hunter, and she held her
breath as he swung down in front of their building. Her
breath came out in a disappointed sound. She did not
recognize the man.

When a knock sounded on the door, she wondered
what a hunter would want at this hour. The gambling
rooms didn't open until seven. She heard his footsteps
on the stairs and hurried to crack open her door. The
man stood with his back to her, talking to the maid.
The twang of the hill country filled the hall as he asked
to see Jake South. A wave of homesickness swept over
her at the sound of the well-remembered speech.

When the maid answered that no Jake South lived
here, Mama swung the door open to ask the stranger to
wait. But Egan appeared at his door at the same time,
announcing, "I'm Jake South. What can I do for you?"

After a suspicious look at the pop-eyed maid, the
hunter turned his attention to Egan. "Mr. South, do you
have a young woman living here by the name of Marna
Barton?"

Gripping the door so hard that her knuckles turned
white, Marna heard her father answer, "Yes. Why do
you ask?"

"I've been tryin' to find her to give her a message."

"You can give it to me," Egan said. "I'll see that she
gets it."

After a moment of hesitation, the man cleared his
throat and parroted, "General Washington sends his
regrets that her husband suffered an arrow in his chest
and that he is now dead."

The words hung in the silence. Her eyes stricken,
Marna stared wildly, mutely. Her throat worked convulsively as she tried to scream out, "No, no, it's only
another one of my dreams." But while her heart cried
no, her mind insisted yes. She stepped back silently.
Crumpling to the floor, she heard Egan ask sharply, as
from a distance, "Is that all? No written word?" Then
she heard no more.

A stinging in her hands, and Egan's anxious voice,
brought Mama back to consciousness. For a moment
she stared bewilderedly into his and Betsy's concerned
faces. Then remembrance flooded over her. A great shuddering took hold of her, and she was crying
brokenheartedly.

Egan pulled her into his lap. Holding her close, he
encouraged, "Cry it out, honey. Get it all out, once and
for all."

When only dry sobs shook her body, Betsy sat down
on the edge of the bed with a basin of water. While she
gently bathed the red and swollen eyes, Egan poured a
good amount of brandy into a glass. Handing it to
Marna, he said softly, "Drink it all down, Marna. It
will dull the pain."

Tears welled afresh and spilled down. "Oh, Pa, nothing will ever dull this pain."

Egan sat back down on the bed and stroked back her
hair. "Believe me, Marna, enough of it helps. I should
know. I lived on it for two years after your mother
died. For a long time I didn't care for anything but
it.,,

He reached across Marna and clasped Betsy's hand,
which was lying on the coverlet. "It was only that I
found you and met Betsy that life took on any real
meaning for me."

Betsy stroked Mama's cheek. "We don't want you
grieving that long for Matt, dear. You are young and
must get on with the business of living."

They stood up then, and while Betsy smoothed the
covers, Egan said kindly, "Finish your brandy and try
to sleep a bit. I know you won't feel like attending our
wedding, but it's the best thing you could do. Grief is
something a person shouldn't be alone with. It will eat
at you like a cancerous sore."

The door closed softly, and Marna lay staring at the
ceiling. Sleep. How she dreaded it. You were so helpless then. So vulnerable to the thoughts you had held at
bay in your conscious awareness.

She drained the glass of brandy and set it on the
bedside table. Within minutes she was in an exhausted
sleep.

Two hours later her maid was shaking her shoulder,
reminding her in a hushed voice that it was time to start
dressing for the wedding.

Marna moved in a vacuum of despair as she dressed.
How would she ever get through the wedding, she asked
the silent room, choosing the first street outfit her hands
fell on. Hardly aware of her actions, she opened dresser
drawers and pulled out hankerchiefs, a pair of gloves, a
scarf. She pulled silk hose up over her long, shapely
legs. Still in a daze, she sat numbly and let the maid
dress her hair and hook up the back of her white blouse.

A small, foolish-looking hat was perched on her
head, and a fur-trimmed cape was fixed about her
shoulders. Ready, she sat down in a weary lassitude
and waited for Egan and Betsy to come for her.

They came shortly, Aaron with them. The courthouse was only a block away, and they decided they
would walk. As Aaron walked alongside Mama, she
felt his sympathy like a warm blanket.

The civil service didn't take long, and Marna was
reminded of the hurried words of the old preacher who
had married her and Matt. The old fellow was so afraid
that Grandpa would wake up, his words had tripped
over each other. Maybe that's why our marriage didn't
take, she thought bitterly.

She managed to smile and kiss Betsy and Egan. They
looked so happy, she had to fight back her tears. Happiness did not fit into her world today. Aaron took her
arm, and they followed the chattering pair outside.

Out on the boardwalk they found the sun sinking
below the chimney line. Fog from the Delaware was
rolling in, and twilight was fast approaching the city.
The rumble of the coaches was somehow muted in this
quiet time of the day. An old man moved down the
street, lighting the hanging lanterns on every corner.

Marna sighed raggedly. Night was almost here. How
would she ever get through it?

They went straight to one of the rooms at Egan's
house, where the newlyweds' friends waited. Tonight
this room would be closed to the public. There Egan
and Betsy would celebrate with mountains of food and
every available liquor the city had to offer. Marna
pasted a smile on her lips, determined she wouldn't
spoil the big event for these two dear people.

From a distance Aaron watched her struggle against
her pain, trying to join in the festivities. Her face was
pale and strained, her tilted eyes almost staring. She
was on the verge of flying apart. A jab of jealousy ran
through him. If someday she would love him only half
as much, he'd be a happy man.

It was around midnight when he watched her making
her way toward him. She reached his side and gazed up
at him. There was a mute appeal in her eyes that made
his body go weak. His weeks of waiting had not been
for nothing. He took her arm, and wordlessly they left
the room. As he silently followed her upstairs, he
pushed the thought from his mind that she sought only
oblivion in his arms. Before the night was over he
would drive her dead husband from her mind. Aaron
would make such love to her, there would be room only
for him in her mind.