Surrender the Night (29 page)

C
rying. A woman’s crying echoed through Rose’s ears, bouncing off the walls of her mind, jarring her awake. She turned on her side and drew her quilt over her head. The sobbing continued. Did it come from within her? Had the sorrow that had weighed so heavily upon her when she retired that night followed her into her dreams? Sitting up, she swiped her cheeks. No. Not her tears.

Whimpering drifted through the walls.
Amelia
. Leaping from her bed, Rose swung a robe over her shoulders and crept through the dark hallway into Amelia’s chamber next door. The poor woman lay curled in a ball on her coverlet. Misty fingers of moonlight streamed in through the window, caressing her, even as her long black tresses fanned over the coverlet like silken threads. Amelia’s chest convulsed. Rose inched to her side and laid a hand on her arm.

Amelia shot up, her eyes wide. “Oh miss, it’s you.” She gasped for air and looked down. “Forgive me, I woke you again.”

Rose sat beside her and enfolded her in a tight embrace. The aged bed frame creaked. “Has something else distressed you or is it …” Rose hated to even mention his name lest the woman break into sobs anew.

Which Amelia did anyway at just the hint of him—Richard, her husband.

“I miss him so much, Rose.” She inhaled a sob, then leaned her head on Rose’s shoulder.

“I know.” Rose stroked her back. “I know.” Tears burned behind Rose’s eyes. It had been two years since Richard disappeared at sea, yet still his young wife mourned him as if he’d left only yesterday. “Your love was one of a kind.”

Amelia pushed back from her. Glassy brown eyes brimming with pain gazed at Rose. “It was, wasn’t it?”

Rose nodded and wiped a moist strand of Amelia’s hair from her cheek. Though she knew no man was perfect, the way Amelia described Richard as an honorable, kind, and brave man who loved Amelia deeply made Rose long to be loved by such a man. Oddly, a certain British officer filled her vision—an officer who was gone forever just like Richard. Her heart grew heavy. And for the first time, Rose felt the weight of her maid’s ongoing agony. “You were blessed to have had Richard for as long as you did. Most women will never be loved so passionately.”

Amelia nodded, then fell into Rose’s embrace again. “Why am I not getting better? Why do I still think of him every moment of the day and dream of him during the long night?”

“Because he will always be with you, Amelia. And you, with him.” Rose grabbed a handkerchief from the table and handed it to her maid. She blew her nose and gave Rose a tiny smile. “Thank you, miss.” Then dropping her hands into her lap, she gazed out the window. Starlight drifted over her, transforming her skin into porcelain and her tears into silver. “Even when I play the coquette and attract all manner of attention from men, the pain does not subside.”

Rose grasped her hands. They trembled.

“I am beginning to believe that no man can ever take Richard’s place,” Amelia said.

Rose swallowed. She wouldn’t have agreed with her maid a week ago. A week ago, she would have told her to give up her romantic, fanciful notions. She would have told her that one man was as good as the next, as long as he was honorable and hard-working. But Mr. Reed had changed everything. Rose had never met anyone like him. And she doubted she ever would again. Suddenly a hint of Amelia’s pain filled her own heart, and tears blurred her vision.

Amelia lowered her chin. “I need to find a husband. I’ve burdened your aunt and uncle long enough.”

Rose gripped her shoulders and resisted the urge to shake her. “Don’t be such a silly goose, Amelia. You are family now. Surely you know that.” She wiped a wet strand of hair from Amelia’s face.

“Well I suppose if that weren’t true, they would have dismissed me long ago.” Amelia’s laugh came out as a sob, and Rose drew her into a tight embrace and held her until her sobs subsided and they both drifted off to sleep.

Alex hoisted the ax above his head. His muscles burned. Sweat streamed down his bare back. He thrust the blade into the wood, then repeated the process again and again until finally the log separated into two. A sound that reminded him of a ship’s mast snapping shot through the air. Halting, he settled his breath as James Myers strode up to him, a bucket of water in hand, and scooped him a ladleful. Alex set down the ax and poured the cool liquid into his mouth until it dribbled down his chin. After handing the ladle back to James, he ran a hand through his sweat-moistened hair. “Thank you.”

Dropping the ladle into the bucket, James scanned the scene. “It is I who should thank you, Mr. Reed.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and Alex followed his gaze to the house, or what was left of it.

“It would please me if you would call me Alex.”

James chuckled. “It would please you? Now, aren’t you the gentleman? With that accent, you could almost be mistaken for some elegant British nobleman.”

Alex coughed into his hand. “God forbid.”

From across the field, Mr. Drummond strolled up to them. “And just what does God forbid?” He tugged off his hat and ran his sleeve over his forehead.

James scooped some water for the elderly man. “God forbid that Mr. Reed … I mean Alex would be a British nobleman.”

A sparkle lit Mr. Drummond’s brown eyes as he snapped them to Alex. “A travesty, indeed.”

Unsettled by the man’s keen perusal, Alex gazed back at the house. With all the burnt rubble cleared away, the structure appeared sound.
Shards of darkened wood poked out from the remainder of what had been the kitchen, but the foundation was intact. Two young men from town, Mr. Anders and Mr. Braxton stood atop the roof joining the new frame to the existing one. A week or so of hard work should make the humble home as good as new. Not that Alex knew anything about carpentry, but he’d overheard as much from Mr. Drummond.

Alex stretched his shoulders, wincing at the ache that spread down his back. Though he’d been forced to lift heavy objects and perform various laborious tasks in the navy, he couldn’t recall ever wielding so large an ax or working so hard and long in such sweltering heat—not even when he’d chopped wood for Miss McGuire. Oddly, Alex embraced his discomfort. For the first time in his life, his hard work served a noble purpose. Shading his eyes, he glanced up at the sun slinging fiery rays upon him as if the glowing orb were angry at some offense.
Which one?
Alex wondered.

Hot wind whipped around him, and he closed his eyes, allowing it to cool his chest and arms. He drew in a deep breath of air tainted with a hint of salt and sweet summer flowers.

James clapped him on the back. “Well, I thank you again, Alex.” True appreciation beamed in the man’s eyes. “Now I best get this water over to Harold and Jarvis and then get back to my own work.” He tipped his hat and headed toward the house.

Mr. Drummond’s gaze remained on Alex. “Not done much carpentry work before, eh?”

Alex chuckled and picked up his ax. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a bit. But you’re doing a great job, son. Thank you for staying. We’ll have this house up in no time.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Alex said the words before he realized their implication.

Mr. Drummond scratched his gray whiskers, and a hint of a smile flickered over his lips. “Now why would you say something like that?”

Alex gripped the ax handle so tight a splinter of wood pierced his skin. If the man only knew. “I meant after all this family has suffered.” When Mr. Drummond had asked Alex to help rebuild this poor farmer’s home, Alex had seen it as a way to offer penance for the crimes of his countrymen. He hated that he’d had to break his promise that he would leave last night, but how could he refuse the opportunity?

“You are a kind soul, indeed, son.” Mr. Drummond’s look of approval nearly forced Alex to take a step back. Then, smiling, the man turned and walked away.

Alex watched him as he left: the slight hobble in his gait as if one of his legs pained him, his gray hair poking out in all directions from beneath a wide-brimmed hat, the humble yet confident lift of his shoulders. And a longing welled within Alex, a longing to have a father like Mr. Drummond. Alex’s own father had never paid him a single compliment, nor even a kind word or encouragement.

Mr. Drummond took up his spot leaning over a log, shaping and cutting the ends with a long knife while James perched atop a ladder giving water to his friends. He must have said something funny as the men atop the roof joined him in laughter. Alex shook his head. These people found joy even in the midst of tragedy, even with their country at war and the enemy surrounding them. These Americans might be a rustic breed, but they were hardy and they cared for one another. They helped one another. Alex had seen nothing like it in his life. Men willing to give up a day’s or a week’s worth of hard work for someone else. And receive nothing in return. Astonishing. Shame drew his gaze to the grass surrounding his boots—shame at his own reason for offering his assistance. Penance. A purely selfish reason that had nothing to do with kindness.

Hoisting the ax onto his shoulder, Alex moved to the next felled trunk and dug the blade deep into the wood, angry at himself, angry at his father, angry at his countrymen. And even angry at Miss McGuire for being so charming and wonderful.

And for stealing his heart.

Rose clucked her tongue and nudged Valor forward. After both her and Amelia’s difficult night last night, Rose thought it best that they find something productive to do today. If only to keep their minds off their sorrows. So when Cora had informed her that Uncle Forbes was over at the Myers’ farm helping to rebuild James and Elaine’s house, Rose decided to bring him lunch, along with enough food for any other men helping out. And perhaps speak to Elaine again.

“Oh I do hope Mr. Braxton will be there. I know he’s a friend of
Mr. Myers.” Amelia’s excited chatter drifted over Rose’s shoulder even as the woman’s grip on Rose’s waist tightened. “Maybe he’ll ask me to the ball.”

Rose let out a huff, amazed that Amelia could recover so quickly from a night of such anguish. But then again, Rose knew the woman’s flirtatious ways were the only thing that gave her the strength and impetus to survive another day without Richard.

She patted Amelia’s hand. “Maybe he will.”

Pushing up the brim of her straw hat, Rose gazed at the archway of thick elm branches overhead. Trumpet vines spun upward around their trunks and curled around branches before dangling over the dirt path like the green tresses of a forest maiden. Rose swatted one away and drew a deep breath of the fresh mossy air, trying to allay the ache in her heart.

“There they are.” Amelia’s arm speared out on Rose’s right side.

Two men stood atop what was left of the roof, her uncle and James leaned over a massive log perched above the ground on two wooden trestles, and out in the field stood another man, ax raised over his head, dark hair blowing in the breeze.

Bare-chested.

Rose’s stomach clamped tight. Her heart raced. Removing one hand from the reins, she rubbed her eyes and refocused them on the man.

“It’s Mr. Reed,” Amelia said with merely a hint of surprise in her voice. “What is he doing here?”

Rose ‘s thoughts spun in a chaotic jumble. “I have no idea.”

“Oh my, look at him.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why not? He’s absolute perfection.”

“My word, Amelia, shame on you. You shouldn’t stare at him.” But even as she said it, Rose’s eyes shot his way again as if they had a mind of their own. He plunged the ax into a log, then yanked it free and lifted it over his head once more. Muscles as firm as the wood he chopped rippled through his chest and arms beneath skin glistening in the noon sun. She swallowed and urged Valor through the open gate and up the path to the house, where she pulled the horse to a stop. Her uncle looked up from his work and smiled. “There you are, lass.”

James dug his ax deep into the wood and rushed over to assist Rose
from her horse. After her feet hit the ground, she turned and took the basket of food from Amelia before James assisted her down as well.

“We brought you lunch.” Rose held the basket out to James.