In the Shadow of the Moon

by Karen White

  While Stuart brought Zeke inside, I raced upstairs to put on some clothes. It felt strange to be in my room again, as I remembered the last time I had been there and was in a haze of poison and near death. I shuddered but entered, the cheeriness of the room pushing back the dark thoughts of Sarah with Matt Kimble. And what might happen should I fail to do the impossible.

  I dressed hurriedly, skipping the corset and hoops, but at least remembering three petticoats. My mind raced as I buttoned up the coarse muslin, weighing my options.

  When I had entered the house, I had noticed all the little things that were missing: pictures from the walls, knickknacks from the tables. I had nearly tripped over a trunk of children’s clothes and linens that lay open at the bottom of the steps. It was apparent that Julia was ready to move her household to Valdosta.

  Pamela had told me to stay. But I could not endanger Sarah’s life by telling anyone why. I had to think of another reason.

  I followed voices into the parlor as I came down the steps. Stuart stood by the window, drinking from a glass. Dr. Watkins stood next to him, his eyes on Julia, who was sitting on the sofa. All heads turned as I entered.

  “You are leaving for Valdosta tomorrow.” Stuart took a deep swallow from his drink.

  I bristled under his authoritative statement. “I don’t think so.”

  He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  I turned to Charles. “Surely Zeke shouldn’t be moved yet.”

  “Yes, you are quite correct.” He looked at Stuart and shrugged. “But the news from up north is not good. The Yankees are amassing a huge army just north of our border, and Captain Clark of the Roswell Battalion has informed me that they will be making defensive preparations in case of an attack on Roswell. He is advising that women and children leave.”

  “And it is doubtful my mother will follow us all the way south to Valdosta.” Julia’s quiet voice was almost lost in the din of the blood pounding in my temples. I had thought of a plan.

  “I will stay here with Zeke. When he is well enough to travel, we will follow you.”

  Stuart and Charles began their protests at once. But Julia’s voice drowned them out. “Laura is right. It could kill Zeke to move him. The Yankees are not coming tomorrow—they will be safe for the time being. If she wants to stay, then let her stay.”

  My gaze met Julia’s, and she gave a quick nod before glancing away.

  “But what about Pamela? She tried to kill you and Zeke both.” Stuart rubbed his hand through his hair. “And I could never leave a woman alone here with only a sick old man.” He stopped his pacing to stand in front of me. “What kind of a truce did you make with Pamela?”

  Charles stepped in. “You cannot trust Pamela. Her mind is obviously unhinged.”

  “I can’t tell you—I gave her my word.” I stared into two sets of eyes, one brown, the other blue, and saw the same expression in them. Like I was some recalcitrant child that needed to be persuaded into something that was for her own good. “I know I have said this more times than you’ve wanted to hear it, but you have to trust me. There is too much at stake for me to tell you any more.”

  Julia’s voice sounded loud and clear. “Think of everything that Laura has done for this family. She has never betrayed our trust in her. I believe her and will do as she asks. I am asking you both to do the same.”

  I could see Stuart wavering.

  Julia stood, imposing despite her small stature. “Would you rather we abandoned your house to looters and put your grandfather at risk?”

  The two men looked at us as if we had lost our minds. Stuart scooped his hat off the table, and glowered at Julia and me. “I have met mules who were less stubborn than you two women. God help the Yankees if they ever pick a fight with you.” Excusing himself, he left the room, with Charles following in short order.

  Julia faced me, her false bravado gone. “Have you any news of Sarah?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet. But I won’t go anywhere until I know she’s all right, and I will let you know. Somehow I will get word to you.”

  She surprised me by hugging me. “I don’t know how we have survived without you.” Pulling back, she said, “I need to see to Zeke. Before I leave tomorrow, I will have to show you how to make his dressings and how to prepare his medicine. I will also need to come up with a plausible reason why Sarah isn’t with us.” In a rustling of her skirts, she also left the room.

  All through the night, the slamming of drawers and trunk lids and the sounds of heavy furniture being dragged across wooden floors shattered the night. I was relieved to see the piano remaining, assuming it was too big to be moved anywhere and thus also safe from the Yankees.

  The following morning, I stood staring out the sidelights of the front door, watching Stuart load one of the wooden farm wagons. Soft footsteps approached behind me, the light fragrance of lavender surrounding me.

  “He’s almost done,” I said. Julia stood beside me and nodded. “What did you tell the men about Sarah?”

  She turned and placed her valise on top of a trunk. “I told them she had been invited by Ruth and Josiah Reed to ride to Valdosta with them and their family. They left yesterday.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “Godspeed, Laura. And bring Sarah home.” Her voice cracked, her eyes pooling with tears.

  I ignored her reference to home, as if the very word wasn’t in dispute.

  She let go of my hand and reached into a pocket of her cloak. “I want you to have this. It goes to the secret compartment in the armoire in my bedroom. I am taking the family Bible with me, but I’ve copied all the family records in here—of births and deaths.” Her eyes bored into mine, and I reached for the object she was handing me. I knew which armoire she was speaking of: the same one that would sit in my bedroom more than 150 years in the future. But I had never known it contained a secret compartment.

  “I will put some personal family letters and documents in it. If you do return to your home, you will be able to find out what has become of us all.” Her eyes were misty as she dropped a small, heavy object into my hand. I looked down, my palm burning. Lying in my open palm was a key. A key identical to the one worn around the neck of the woman in the portrait Mrs. Cudahy had given me. “I have one just like it and will keep it locked after I have put everything in it.”

  I swallowed to ease my suddenly dry throat. “Thank you, Julia. But I hope that I can give it back to you in person.” She embraced me tightly, the top of her head resting under my chin and her hair smelling of lavender and wood smoke.

  Stuart came in the front door and hoisted the last trunk onto his broad shoulders, his limp no longer discernible. He avoided looking in my direction and left again to put the final piece of luggage on the wagon. From the corner of my eye, a gleam of silver caught my attention. Mrs. Cudahy’s tray, forgotten on a hall table. Easy pickings for the marauding army. I grabbed it up and ran out of the house, clutching it to my bosom.

  “Wait! You forgot this!”

  Stuart jumped down from the wagon. “One of the few unsold pieces of my mother’s wedding silver. Thank you.”

  Our eyes met in the watery reflection of the smooth silver. “I don’t suppose I can change your mind about staying,” he said.

  “No. You can’t.” I stepped closer. “Do you remember what Zeke told you right after I came here? Something about how you needed to trust me because I would be your salvation? This is the time, Stuart. Regardless of where you think my loyalties lie, you need to believe that I have your and your family’s best interests at heart. Staying here with Zeke is something I need to do. I’m not helpless, and I certainly don’t need a man around to protect me. Don’t worry about me—I can take care of myself. You taught me how to shoot, remember?”

  His eyes narrowed into blue slits. “There is an army of about a hundred thousand men who are thinking about heading in this direction, and you are tel
ling me not to worry about you. It is all I can do not to tie you up and throw you in the back of this wagon. Maybe all the jostling on the road to Valdosta would knock some sense into you.”

  “I wish we could stop arguing about this. My mind’s made up and I won’t budge. Can’t we just leave it at that and say a proper goodbye?”

  He leapt onto the wagon and secured the tray in one of the trunks. I wondered briefly if I would ever see it again in this century.

  I thought again of telling him everything, and just as quickly dismissed it from my mind. Sarah’s life hung in the balance, as did Stuart’s and everybody else’s, and there was no doubt in my mind what Pamela would do if she found out I had confided in him. I looked up at his stormy face and knew that no matter what I said, he didn’t really trust me enough to leave this alone.

  The gray sky overhead held the chill of the air close to the earth, and the heavy cloud cover threatened rain. I wrapped my shawl tightly around me as Willie ambled out of the house, his eyes downcast. Even the horse seemed subdued. I had said goodbyes many times in my life, but none as painful or as permanent as this one seemed to be.

  Julia had gone to the cemetery to say goodbye to Robbie one more time. I wanted to reassure her that she would come back to Roswell at the war’s end. All I knew was that her beloved house would survive, but not who would come back to claim it.

  “Laura.”

  I turned to see Stuart with his arm outstretched. I took his hand and allowed him to lead me across the winter-browned grass to the side of the house. The deceptive dark green of the boxwoods made it seem like spring, but the drab browns and grays of the rest of the fauna reminded me that this was the darkest part of the year.

  “No, I am not going to ask you again. I know your mind is made up. But I cannot leave you, in good conscience, without means to protect yourself. I have asked Charles to keep an eye on things here. Let him know if there is anything you need.” He stopped walking and turned to me, his blue stare melting something inside me. “And there is something else.”

  He lifted my left hand and I felt cold metal on the tip of my third finger. A gold filigree ring with a stone of black jet slid easily over my knuckle, resting next to Michael’s plain gold band.

  I stared at it, the smooth surface reflecting the clouds overhead. “What is this?”

  “My father gave this to my mother when he proposed to her.” His eyes studied me, as if measuring my reaction. “I am giving this to you for protection.”

  My gaze traveled back down to the ring, dark against the paleness of my skin. “How would this protect me?”

  His gaze never wavered. “That would depend on which army you have the most to fear. If you marry me, you would become not only the wife of a Confederate officer, but also the sister-in-law of a Federal officer on General Sherman’s staff. You would be covered on all sides.”

  I blinked hard. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “To protect me?”

  “Yes—among other reasons.”

  “Like what?”

  He paused, scrutinizing me. “I will tell you everything when you do the same.”

  I touched the ring with my right hand, shaking my head. “I am glad that is the main reason. Otherwise, I could not say yes in good conscience.”

  His arms went around me, pulling me close. His lips touched mine briefly before he pulled away. “I will be back as soon as I know Julia is settled. When I return, we will have the Reverend Pratt make it official.”

  I clutched the ring tightly, trying to hold on to the smallest glimmer of reality. How could I marry him and then disappear? Could he remarry, not knowing what had happened to his wife?

  He kissed me again and held me against him for a long time, until we heard Julia’s voice calling for us. With a final kiss, he led me back to the wagon to say my final goodbyes. As I kneeled one last time in front of Willie, he clutched at my skirt. “Miss Laura. I am going to miss you so much!”

  I shut my eyes tight and hugged him to me. “And I’m going to miss you, too, Willie.”

  He looked up at me with his tear-streaked face, and I brushed the drops aside with my fingers before planting a kiss on his freckled nose. I said goodbye one last time and helped him up to the bench seat of the wagon. “Mind your mama now, you hear?”

  Stuart mounted Endy and suddenly there was nothing more to do. They were ready to leave Roswell and their home for the duration of the war, and perhaps longer. It was time. I hugged Julia one last time before Stuart helped her up and she took the reins, and then I forced myself to wave as the wagon pulled out, Endy following closely behind.

  I watched them until they were nearly at the end of the long drive before I couldn’t take it anymore. “Wait!” I shouted. I ran to catch up with Stuart, my skirts held shockingly high. I reached him all out of breath and, before I could protest, he leaned down and pulled me up on the saddle in front of him.

  “Did you forget something?” The side of his mouth quirked up slightly.

  “Yes, I did.” I swallowed deeply, trying to regain my breath. “I forgot to tell you to be careful.” Something flickered in his eyes, his hands tightening on my waist. I threw my arms around him, kissed him soundly, then quickly slid off the side of the horse.

  Julia gave me a wan look as the loaded wagon trundled past, and I knew she was thinking of Sarah. I mouthed the words, “I’ll bring her back,” and she nodded as she passed me. Willie’s dark head bobbed beside her, his brown eyes filled with tears. I sucked in my breath and held it, afraid to let it go. Afraid to let them hear my shrieking out my grief at letting them go, and my fear of staying behind and not knowing what was to come.

  Sukie sat on the other side of Willie, hugging him. A wheel hit a soggy rut, and there was a moment when we thought that their trip would be delayed, but the straining of the horse pulled it out and they continued down the front drive.

  Stuart sat atop Endy, his eyes fixed on me. Finally, as the wagon drove through the front gates, he tipped his hat and turned the horse around to follow. I raced after them and stood leaning on the gate, bent over while I sucked in my breath in deep gulps, my gaze anchored to Stuart’s back until he disappeared around the bend.

  I lifted my muddy skirts and trudged back to the house. I felt the unfamiliar weight on my finger and stopped halfway to examine the ring. The overcast sky clouded the jet, giving it only a murky gleam. I felt the tears coming and knew I couldn’t hold them back much longer. I stared at the house as I got nearer and felt a surge of pride and, for the first time, what compelled Stuart and so many others like him to risk their lives for their homes and all they represented. There had always been a connection between this house and me ever since I had first seen it with Michael. Phoenix Hall had become my home and my daughter’s, just as the Elliotts had become my family. Perhaps I had been sent here to save them both from destruction. Or maybe I had been sent here to find happiness in my life again. And, maybe still, the two were connected.

  A black crow flew overhead, cawing loudly. A feeling of someone walking over my grave settled on me, making my skin tingle with dread, and I thought of Sarah and where she might be. I climbed the porch and entered the house, closing the door soundly behind me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Between two worlds life hovers like a star,

  ’Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon’s verge.

  —LORD BYRON

  During the remaining cold weeks of January and February, my thoughts were never far from Sarah. I grieved anew for my daughter, and knew there was nothing that I wouldn’t do to bring her back. So I tended Zeke and the garden, watching them both stir in the last embrace of winter, and I waited for Stuart. And Pamela. Every noise in the night and every shadow at the window sent my heart racing. After the first week, I stopped tiptoeing about the house, expecting her around every c
orner. After three weeks, I had relaxed enough to be able to sleep through most of the night, waking only a few times in the darkest hours with an edgy wariness.

  On a warm afternoon, I was rocking on the front porch, enjoying the hint of spring in the air and taking a much-needed break from nursing. Dr. Watkins’s familiar buggy appeared at the front gate and ambled its way down the drive. Too tired to stand and greet him, I waved.

  Clambering down, Charles tied his horse to the hitch, then lifted his hat to me before joining me on the porch.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  “No, of course not.” I waved my hand in the direction of the chair next to mine.

  “How is Zeke?”

  “Much better—no headaches for three days now. And he can manage walking with the crutch without my help.”

  Grunting, he sat back and began to dig in his vest pocket for his pipe and tobacco.

  “I’m starting to see something green in the vegetable garden. I might need some help in identifying whatever I’m growing.”

  Charles nodded and then took a puff from his pipe, slowly letting the smoke leak out of his mouth. The tobacco perfumed the air and I was suddenly reminded of my father.

  Without looking at me he said, “Mrs. Truitt, may I call you Laura?” He pinkened under his whiskers.

  “I’d like that. But only if I can call you Charles.”

  The color in his cheeks deepened, and his gaze continued to focus across the front lawn. He nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  He began fidgeting with his pipe and cleared his throat three or four times. Not knowing how much of his discomfort I could bear, I asked, “Is there something you’d like to say?”

  The stricken look on his face reminded me of Charlie when I had had to pull a large splinter from his rear paw. “Um, ahem. Yes, there is, as a matter of fact. Of course. Yes.”

  I stopped rocking and glanced over at him with anticipation. He looked back at me and moved his lips, but no sound was forthcoming. He was beginning to worry me.