Undaunted Love (9 page)

Chapter Fifteen

L
IVVIE WAS SITTING AT THE small burl walnut writing desk composing a letter when there was a quiet knock at the door. She stood up and pulled on her dressing gown, cinching it tightly at her waist. Expecting one of her parents, she was surprised to see Emmy standing there, holding an envelope and grinning like a fool.

“Mistuh Rafe!” she whispered. “Mistuh Rafe’s a’comin’ home!”

Stunned, Livvie covered her mouth to stifle a scream of delight. “When?” she hissed, glancing warily at her parents’ door.

“Tomorrah!” Emmy whispered triumphantly. “For a whole four days!” She handed Livvie the letter.

Snatching it, Livvie gave the older woman a fierce hug and quickly closed her door. She ran over and jumped on her bed, ripping open the envelope and throwing it down on the coverlet.

My Dearest Liv,

I’m sure you know by now that we’ve been given a short furlough, four days starting tomorrow morning. When the colonel told us, my first thought was seeing your beautiful face and holding you in my arms. I know it’s impossibly short notice, and I’m not for certain how we’ll manage it, but God has finally seen fit to allow us our wedding night, and more besides. If you can make arrangements to stay with me, we can spend all the days together. If you cannot, my love, don’t fret. Our secret makes it difficult, I know, but we’ll steal the hours when we can. I will leave as soon as we are dismissed, God willing, on Mr. Greene’s horse, and cross through Byrd’s Creek on my way home shortly after noon. I’ll look for you in our usual spot, or for a letter awaiting me when I get home.

All My Love,

Yours,

Rafe.

She clutched the letter to her chest, grinning so broadly that her cheeks hurt. Her husband was coming home, and for almost an entire week! What a gift God was giving them! Jumping off the bed, she pulled out her valise and began packing. She had sewn a new chemise since the wedding, to wear their first night together, and she folded it carefully and laid it in the bag. A sky blue nightdress followed, then drawers, a corset, a cotton blouse with beautiful puffed sleeves and lace that covered her hands. She would wear her hoops and petticoat, and she drew out her newest and most flattering day dresses. Finally she pulled out an icy pink gown, narrow at the waist and straight across the bodice to sit just below her shoulders. The sleeves were banded above the elbow, with several inches of delicate lace below. She put her special satin shoes carefully in the bag, then gathered brushes and toiletries and scented water.

Passing the looking glass, she laughed. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining, and her long hair rippling down her back. She didn’t yet have a plan, but she would spend Rafe’s furlough at his family home, and nothing would stop her.

Rafe rode into town like he had the devil on his tail. He stopped at the outskirts, behind an old magnolia where he and Livvie had often met, and waited for three quarters of an hour before sighing and remounting. He knew she would have difficulty leaving her father’s house on such short notice, at least for an overnight stay, but he’d hoped she would be able to spend the afternoon with him. Well, there would be a letter waiting, at the least, and it would explain. He’d waited this long, he could wait awhile longer.

He took the horse to a gallop for the final half-mile to the house. The familiar view of the large house brought a grin to his face. His time away hadn’t improved the condition of the place, but it looked mighty fine all the same. He stopped in front of the steps, threw the reins around the hitching post, grabbed his rucksack from the saddle, and ran up two at a time shouting, “Nackie! Nack! I’m home!”

He opened the door, still yelling, but soon realized no one was about. He was sure that Satchel’s brother had done his errand… Although he really had no way of knowing, now that he considered it.

“Hello? Nackie? I’m back…” No one answered. He dropped his pack on the bench and walked through the wide hallway, heading to the kitchen. He was hungry and thirsty.

On the work table in the kitchen was a pitcher of cool water and a plate of sandwiches, filled with thick slices of roasted beef and fresh tomato. He grabbed one and gobbled it down, drinking a large glass of water afterwards and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He picked up another sandwich and took time to look around. There was a vase of wildflowers on the table, unusual for the old man to have done, but perhaps they were for his mother. Then he spied a folded piece of paper propped up against the vase. In Livvie’s handwriting, “Rafe” was written across it.

Dropping the sandwich back onto the plate he snatched up the letter and opened it. Two words were written on it. “Come upstairs.”

He ran up the stairs, but slowed when he got to the wide-open hallway. His room was on the right, at the back of the house. His mother’s was on the left overlooking the front drive. There was no sound from his mama, and although he suspected he should look in on her first, he couldn’t. Not with his bride waiting. He walked past the doors that held bedrooms long unoccupied, hearing the creaking of the old wooden floors. He stopped in front of the bedroom he’d lived in his entire life and wiped his hands on his trousers.

Scraping his hands through his hair nervously, he cleared his throat, closed his eyes for a long moment, and turned the knob. When he entered, it was to a room he didn’t recognize. Gone was his austere bed, and in its place was the mahogany bed from his grandparents’ former room. Every pillow in the house must have been brought in, covered in soft white cotton, some with dainty lace edging. The feathered star quilt that his grandmother had made the year before she died, red stars on a blue background, lay across the bed. The drapes had been drawn, and candles burned on the chest of drawers, writing desk and bedside table. Vases of wildflowers brightened the surfaces and gave the room a spicy scent.

Slowly Rafe walked into the room. The old blue and white china jug was full of water, and he poured some into the washbasin and washed the road dust off. He splashed his face and ran wet hands through his hair. When he looked up, Livvie was standing next to him, holding out a bit of soft linen toweling, dressed in a delicate white chemise that was tied up the front with satin ribbon. She was smiling, and there were tears of joy in her eyes.

He took the towel and wiped his face without taking his eyes off of her. Without a word, he laid it on the table, turned to her, and took her in his arms. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest, and he could do nothing but close his eyes and breathe in the scent of her hair, his hands locked around her slender waist. Finally she looked up at him with a shy smile, and he leaned down and kissed her, softly at first, but then with increasing passion.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed, settling her gently among the pillows. He started to stand, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him down next to her, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him again.

They walked onto the porch, hand in hand, both blushing slightly as Nackie grinned widely at them. He set a platter of roasted quail down before them, boiled onions and carrots piled to the side. Buttered rolls were already on the table, along with a bowl of blueberries, and a bowl of sugar. Only two places were set.

“I figured y’all was gonna be mighty hungry,” he said happily. Livvie blushed even more deeply but smiled up at Rafe. “I got a cake out there when you’re ready, and I’ll bring out cider.”

“Aren’t you eatin’ with us?” Rafe asked.

Nackie tsked. “Now Mistuh Rafe, this here’s y’all’s wedding night, and I ‘spect bein’ alone is what you want. I be sittin’ in the kitchen, and you need somethin’, you just holler for ole Nackie and I’ll come a’runnin’. And Missus Colton, you look ‘specially beautiful this evenin’.” He grinned again and disappeared through the door.

Rafe laughed at Livvie’s embarrassment and pulled out the chair for her, kissing her on the top of her head as he helped her scoot in. “I know he helped you with the bed. Why are you feelin’ shy now?” He sat across from her, drinking in her beauty in the candlelight.

Giggling, Livvie said, “It was different when we were just movin’ the furniture and pickin’ flowers!”

“I think Old Nackie’s been around long enough to know a thing or two about marriage beds,” Rafe said, serving his wife a quail, and then placing one on his plate. “Why, he was married himself, a long time ago.”

“What happened to his wife?”

Rafe frowned for a moment, thinking. “Seems to me she died while birthin’ his daughter. But that was before I was born. Missy’s gotta be twenty-five now, married and livin’ on a plantation down near Savannah. I think my daddy sold her and her husband when she was eighteen.” He popped a small buttery onion into his mouth. “Nackie spent too much on this supper, but I ain’t gonna grudge one penny of it, not tonight.”

“It’s delicious! Nackie’s a good cook. But, if it suits you, I’d like to try my hand in the kitchen, too.”

Afraid to hope, Rafe asked, “How long can you stay?”

“I’m not leavin’ til you leave. And I mean to show you that I’ll be a good wife to you, when you’re home for good.” She cut a carrot into a dainty bite and ate it happily. “You’ll see, Rafe Colton. You’re gonna be glad you married me.”

Rafe laughed. “I was glad the minute I said ‘I will,’ my love. You ain’t gotta prove nothin’ to me. But you do whatever you want to do. This is your house now, and I’d be honored to eat your cookin’.”

Chapter Sixteen

R
AFE WOKE EARLY THE NEXT morning, conditioned by his schedule with the regiment, and was surprised to find himself alone in the big bed. “Liv?” he called, but she wasn’t in the room. He got up and threw back the heavy drapes, looking at the new day and shaking his head at his incredibly good fortune. He threw on his old homespun trousers and a white linen shirt and headed downstairs. He could smell food cooking and coffee brewing, and hear voices from the kitchen.

He stopped in the doorway, smiling broadly. Standing over the big cast iron stove, Livvie was flipping flapjacks. She looked as if she’d bathed in the batter first, with dibs and dabs of hardened yellow on her dress and apron, flour in her hair, and smear of something shiny across her nose. Her puffy sleeves had been pushed up and then tied so that they were out of her way, but Rafe thought the best reason for it was so they wouldn’t catch fire. Next to the stove was a pile of burnt, misshapen pancakes, with only one marginally edible one resting on a plate. Nackie was standing next to her, arms folded, shaking his head.

“Good morning, my love,” he said, as he strode over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She smacked him with the spatula and Rafe laughed and released her.

“Don’t laugh at me! I’m trying to learn to make flapjacks. Looks like you’re going to have a lean breakfast…” She flipped the cake, which hadn’t fully set so that blobs of batter speckled the pan. “Nackie’s being very patient, but obviously I should have set my sites on something a tad easier.” Turning, she handed Nackie the spatula. “I’m afraid you’d better do it, else we’ll starve to death.”

Nackie took the implement with a smile, making a concerted effort not to laugh out loud. Livvie shrugged. “I’ll have to speak with Emmy about some cooking lessons. It seems it’s a bit harder than it looks. We do have coffee, love, and no, before you ask, I didn’t make it.”

Rafe grinned and poured himself a cup, mixing in sugar until it was syrupy sweet. He took her hand, kissed it, and led her to the table on the porch.

“I’m sorry about breakfast,” Livvie began.

“I don’t care if you can flip a flapjack, Liv, I’m still the happiest man alive.”

“You’ll care later when you and our children are starvin’!” she grumbled, but he just chuckled.

“You’ve got plenty of time to learn, and if you don’t, well, I’m not too bad at the basics. It’s just been Nackie’n me for a while now. And just about anythin’ is better than what we get at the regiment.”

Livvie smiled, then her eyes clouded. “Why did they give you this furlough, Rafe? Not that I want to be heard complainin’, Lord knows, but four days is an awful long time.”

Rafe looked out over the land. Before he’d sold off the timber, his view was of a pine forest, dark and cool. Now he saw an endless field of stumps. He hadn’t really considered the stumps when he talked to Mr. Greene, and he didn’t regret selling the trees, since it had kept them fed after their land was taken. But before anything could be planted on those five acres, all the stumps would have to be pulled out or burned, and that was as daunting a task as he had yet faced. Sighing, he turned to his wife.

“We’re shipping out to Virginia on the fifth. President Davis has ordered us to join with the North Virginia militia, to fortify that area. They think Lincoln’ll send his troops out of Washington, as that’s where he’s been fortifying. Word is there’s a lot of spies for the Confederacy in Washington, so I guess they know where we’re needed most.”

“So you’ll be fightin’ soon.” She said it as a statement, not as a question. She knew a good bit about the doings of the Confederacy through her father. He was still hosting almost nightly meetings of influential men from Edisto and Wadmalaw, and sometimes as far away as Charleston and even, once or twice, Savannah. Unfortunately, Wyman Phelps was often there, having taken a position in Hugh Byrd’s law firm as a clerk and, unofficially, Hugh’s assistant. She supposed she should be thankful her daddy hadn’t offered him a room in their house. At least propriety won out while he still had – he thought – an unmarried daughter at home.

Rafe shrugged. “I guess. Not that the Federals seem able to do much a’that. At Big Bethel they were shootin’ at each other, so they say.”

Nackie brought out a platter of blissfully unburned pancakes, a jar of honey, and a bowl of hard cooked eggs. “You be needin’ anythin’ else, Mistuh Rafe? I gonna take a tray up to yo mama now, if’n that’s all.”

“No, thank you, Nackie. And tell mama we’ll be up shortly to visit with her. Maybe she’d like to walk outside a bit.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up on gettin’ her outta that room, but you can ask her, suh, you surely can. And maybe her purty new daughter can get her movin’ where we menfolks can’t.”

Filling his plate, Rafe dug in and ate half of his food before he continued their conversation. The warm flapjacks seemed to melt in his mouth, the honey filled his senses with a sweetness he hadn’t tasted in a month or more, and being able to have more than two eggs encouraged him to eat five. Livvie laughed as he kept eating.

“You are a bit skinny,” she said, teasing. “Maybe you could just eat the honey with a spoon.”

“Don’t laugh, I just might!” he answered, biting into another egg, savoring the rich flavor of the yolk.

“I only got to stay in til the end of October. Odds are, we’ll sit up there in Virginia and darn our socks and play a lot of cards in front of the campfire.”

Livvie pushed her plate away, her flapjacks half eaten. “Well, October’s not so long, is it? And after that, we can announce our marriage, and I’ll move here with you, and we’ll start our lives.” She reached out and took his hand. “I don’t want to talk about anything other than the next three days right now, though. I don’t want to be sad.”

“Nor I,” Rafe said, and leaned over to kiss her. “If you’re done, we should visit Mama, see if we can get her out of that room. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you, and to see me married off.”

“I haven’t seen her in a long time, not since she took sick,” she said uneasily as she stood and folded her napkin, setting it down beside her plate. “Is she much changed?”

“Not to look at, no. But she’s… well, she’s not really there. I don’t have the words to describe it, really. She just couldn’t handle my daddy bein’ so sick, and then gone. She lost more and more of herself with every passin’ month. Me and Nackie, we did all we could, but she insisted I keep going to school, and Nackie was doin’ more and more around here with every slave she sold… I didn’t know she was gettin’ loans through your daddy to keep us goin’ or I woulda stopped her. By the time I knew, the debts had been called and the judge had declared us bankrupt.” He shrugged. “Course, I wouldn’t have gone off to Charleston to sell the timber if your daddy hadn’t a’stole the land, and I wouldn’t have rescued you and your sister, and we wouldn’t’ve fell in love. So I guess, round about, your daddy did me a favor.”