Plantation Nation (9781621352877) (30 page)

"How could that be?"

"I was injured during a mission, and when I
was taken to the hospital, a few people found out my secret. They
were already my friends, but they didn't know I was a woman. I
didn't tell anyone I was disguising myself so they wouldn't have to
lie to protect me, if it ever came to that." Emma worried she was
desperately rambling. "I didn't mean for it to happen, but I could
say that about so many things now."

Stuart reached out and tenderly took her
hand.

"I think you should reconsider, even if it
means living elsewhere. I know I could make you happy."

"You deserve better than me, Stuart. You
deserve a girl who can give you her whole heart." She shook her
head. "That can't be me. My heart will always belong to
another."

Emma knew her relationship with Stuart would
never recover. A wedge would forever exist between them. They would
never be as easy as they had been around each other again. They
would no longer be confidants, able to boldly trust each other with
every problem. She hated hurting him, but more painful was the
longing she felt for James and an utter regret for having left him
at all.

Emma spent the next couple days tending to
her mother. She wanted to believe the rest of the family simply
hadn't tried hard enough to rescue Olivia from her fear and
depression. The daily dosage of medicine also troubled Emma. What
would happen if the day came when there was no remedy to ease her
mood? Would an empty gun still suffice? And how long could the
money and Doc Hadley's supply hold out? Surely, the war would
affect both.

Emma exhausted herself. She talked to her
mother endlessly in that breathless, cheerful manner that once
defined Olivia. But mostly, Olivia remained unresponsive. Emma fed
her, though Olivia ate more for Harper than she did for Emma. She
placed Thomas in Olivia's lap, hoping he would flash his precious
smiles, but Thomas whined and reached for Emma. Emma took her
mother out to the garden, to show her the beautiful springtime
blooms, but Olivia displayed no interest, no pleasure. She mumbled
fearfully that Yankees could be near and fled to her room.

As she sat with her mother in the dimly lit
bedroom one afternoon, Emma brushed Olivia's hair. She used to do
the same thing for Sylvia after she'd been frightened by a storm.
Emma took her time and spoke of memories from special occasions and
parties Olivia had hosted. Olivia responded little. Emma styled
Olivia's hair, getting every ringlet just so, and helped her into a
grand gown. She hoped that Olivia could glimpse her former self and
revive from her state of limpness. But to Emma's dismay, the dress
no longer fit. Since the trauma, Olivia's figure had deteriorated,
much the same as her emotional stability had. Emma picked another
dress, but the results were the same. Emma let it go. Instead, she
synched the dress in where she could and applied a dab of rouge to
her mother's cheeks. She led her to a mirror she'd brought in from
another room.

Olivia stood there, her shoulders drooped,
her eyes uninterested. Emma put her hands on Olivia's shoulders and
whispered to her, reminding her how beautiful she was, telling her
that baby Thomas and the rest of the family needed her. A faint
recognition dawned on Olivia, but she pounded the mirror with
clenched fists, causing it to shatter. Emma pulled her back from
the rain of sharp pieces and yelled for Harper as Olivia, with
blood rippling down her arms, thrashed and screamed.

****

Growing up, Emma had avoided the family's
burial plots with diligence, but now, she felt drawn there. At the
crest of a hilltop, the cemetery sat atop the highest point on the
Cartwright land. The meadow swayed below, and yellow toadflax
danced in the breeze. A sense of peace greeted Emma, or perhaps it
was a release from having left her mother's side. The sight of her
father's gravestone didn't bring tears to her eyes, though she
ached to see him, talk with him, and fall into his arms. Grass
sprouted sparingly over Alexander's resting place, and his
un-weathered tombstone was a reminder of his recent death that made
Emma's stomach clench. Small comfort was found in the fact that his
body was retrieved by the family, a benefit to having a battle so
close to home.

Emma had also spent time with Tilda, talking
about Henry and paying her respects to his resting place. She still
found it difficult to believe he was gone. War had proven to Emma
that no man, no home was safe.

"I suppose there's no surprise, finding you
up here," Knox said as he joined her.

Lost in thought, Emma hadn't heard him
approach. She expected to see him dismounting a horse, having
forgotten that Knox had sold his few remaining horses. When she'd
asked him about it after supper the other night, he said horse
theft had grown more common with the war, and that he was better
off selling them, even for a paltry price, than to chance the
animals being stolen. Emma suspected there was more to his
resolution, but she didn't question him further.

"I'd forgotten how beautiful the scenery is
from up here," Emma said.

"Indeed." Knox took the bouquet of
wildflowers he held and laid them atop the grave of his wife.
Emma's memories of her grandmother were fragmented and scattered
since Louise had passed when Emma was only six, but she treasured
the stories her father and Knox had often shared about her.

"How's mother?"

Knox lingered. "She's resting quietly. Doc
Hadley stitched her up nicely, said she'll be all right."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean
—
"

"Nonsense. Nothing to be sorry about." He sat
beside Emma. "You tried, Emma Louise, you tried. Except for Harper,
I fear the rest of us have given up. Maybe if Quinn returns… well,
maybe then."

Emma's chest tightened. She couldn't tell
Knox and the rest of her family what had happened between her and
Quinn. Her family had endured more than she could have thought
possible. Telling them that Quinn had tried to kill her, that he
was bleeding profusely when she left him, would only deepen their
sorrows. She refused to put them through more grief. If Quinn
returned, though, Emma couldn't envision herself standing in the
same room with him. She didn't hate him or hope he was dead, but
she wouldn't be able to pretend in front of others that nothing had
occurred. In her heart, she would work on forgiving him.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, Granddad, and going
back up North."

Knox sat motionless. "You mean back to the
Union army."

Emma's throat went dry, her eyes wide.
"How
—
"

"I did not know for certain until now, but I
suspected. I didn't want to believe it, mind you, but when I took
in the sight of you, that hair and the peculiar look on your face,
I knew. How could my own flesh and blood side with such scoundrels?
And how on earth could you run off and live as a man?" Knox sighed,
shook his head. "But after the news of Alexander and those vermin
invading our home, nothing should appall me." He shot her a look.
"I'm not saying I approve, Emma Louise, but I am saying that, after
all that's happened… your father, Basil, and even Vaughn, that I
found an understanding. It's your nature to want what you think is
right, and I can't fault you for that. However, I do wish you'd
reconsider. This is your home, the only life you've ever known.
You're needed here."

Emma knew she couldn't fully explain her
hankering to leave. She was still figuring out a great deal about
who she was and what she wanted. Naturally, her feelings for James
were involved, as well as her desire to make up for the fact she
had left her comrades at a pivotal time. She feared she was no
better than Charles, who contemplated deserting, or perhaps even
men like McClellan and Colonel Reed, who were all ego and little
action. Such thoughts wrangled in her mind.

"So much is different," Emma said. "I can't
stay. I don't feel like I belong here anymore." The words pained
her to say, but Emma owed him total honesty.

"What about Stuart? That boy's had new life
breathed in him since you arrived."

Emma frowned. "He'll be glad to see me go…
now." Knox arched an eyebrow in her direction. "I turned down his
proposal."

"Well, based on the history you two have
shared, I would've surmised that such a notion would have great
appeal to you. He's far better than Vaughn."

"I don't have romantic feelings for him."

Knox nodded. "Yes, I suppose such feelings
might be important."

Emma darted her eyes at him. A year ago he
had insisted she marry a man she despised, and he had allowed
Olivia to send away Sylvia, knowing it would break her heart. She
wanted to ask him what he knew about feelings. However, he was no
longer the same man he was a year ago, just as she was no longer
the same. Her resentment dissipated.

"Stuart is a marvel, I must say," Knox said.
"Why, he's determined to preserve our property here. Would you
believe he's suggested that we turn to sharecropping, since the
laborers are gone? Can you even fathom such a thing? Stuart says
it's the only way we can still grow and harvest the rice. What's
worse is that he wants to turn our home into a boarding house!
Sakes almighty! Who knows what he'll consider next. Perhaps turning
the place into a bordello!"

Emma blushed and laughed. She couldn't recall
the last time he'd spoken with such playful boisterousness, though
she knew part of his intention was to hide the sting he felt from
such ideas becoming his future. Emma wondered how a man of Knox's
stature and pride would survive so many changes. He had already
sacrificed a great deal, but could he continue adjusting, and could
he accept a new South, one without slavery, if the North won?
Perhaps in watching the slaves depart, he had accepted it.

"Stuart means well," Emma said. "And he has a
good head on his shoulders. I know you always wanted to pass this
land along to one of your sons, but maybe it's best this way. I'm
glad he's thinking about taking care of the family and the
plantation." She slightly hung her head. "Speaking of which,
there's a matter I needed to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

"The money from the chest." Her heart raced
at the admission. "I can put back what I have left, but I plan to
pay it all back."

"My dear Emma Louise, keep it." He took her
hand and kissed it.

"I can't! I know you need it for mother and
for supplies."

"That's not for your worry. This family has
been prosperous for quite some time, and I will have slight peace,
knowing that you have means on your journey. Money is the least of
things that I can give you now."

Emma squeezed his hand. She wasn't sure how
forthright Knox was being about the family's money. Of course, she
knew that such discussions were difficult and rarely undertaken
with a female. She had to accept Knox's vague answers on the
subject and realize he had no intention of disclosing fiscal
matters to her.

"There's something else," Emma said. "The
Colt."

He considered that. "Hmm. Your father and I
taught you well. Makes me proud that you know a fine piece of
weaponry, and that you know how to use it, but I admit, it's
difficult for me to reconcile the fact that you may be firing upon
our very countrymen with it." He paused. "But on the other hand, it
helps me know that you may be safe with that particular gun in
hand. Your livelihood is what concerns me most. It's a small
comfort. Keep it."

Emma embraced him. She had no assurances that
leaving was the right thing to do. Her grave might be the next one
added to the plot. This time, however, she would leave without
secrecy, theft or deception, and a renewed passion for her role in
the war against the states
—
and a
secret hope that she might reconcile with James.

****

The rest of Emma's family greeted the
announcement of her departure with silence at supper later that
night. Olivia couldn't be coaxed from her room, so Emma had told
her in private, though the meaning of such news was lost on Olivia.
Tilda and Harper, who still ate their meals in the kitchen because
they felt it proper, didn't hide their tears. Emma didn't elaborate
that her hospital duties were served through the means of the Union
army, as she and Knox had decided that it was best for everyone,
besides Stuart, not to know. Everyone, though, had gossiped about
Emma's strange need to serve the Yankees instead of their boys in
gray. Gradually, her cousins and sister wished her well and
promised to pray for her daily. Touched, Emma held back tears. She
felt Stella's gaze linger upon her, almost begging her to stay.
Awkwardness came over Emma. She questioned whether leaving was the
right thing to do, but when she thought of seeing James again, she
pushed the feeling aside.

Emma scooped Thomas from the table after the
meal and played with him on the floor in the parlor. The family
joined in, and Harper surprised everyone with rice pudding and
pecan pie. Conversation flourished, and memories were shared.
Stuart displayed no discomfort around her, but he and Knox both
seemed mildly saddened. By the end of the evening, no one could
recall the last time such laughter and lightheartedness had filled
the Cartwright home.

Alone in her room a while later, Emma
finished packing her few belongings. She sat on her bed and took in
every part of her room, not knowing if she would ever be there
again. Countless moments she'd shared with Sylvia came flooding
back, and Emma prayed, as she had for months, that her sister was
safe and well.

A knock sounded.

"Emma, are you still up?" Stuart said from
the other side of the door.

She smiled to herself and let him in.