Once a Rebel

by Mary Jo Putney

  “Why didn’t you tell me about him?” Callie asked, baffled.

  “It wasn’t needful,” Josh said simply.

  The hurt deepened in Callie’s face. Gordon guessed that her ignorance of something so important made her feel less like they were all family. “We need to talk, Callie. Down in the office?”

  Her expression numb, she nodded and headed to the stairs. Molly said, “When you’re done talking, please join us for supper, Mr. Gordon. I bought a nice pork pie and made a potato and carrot salad.”

  He smiled at Molly. “Thank you for the invitation. I may take you up on that, but now I have to have a discussion.”

  Callie descended the staircase with quick, tense steps, and Gordon didn’t catch up until she was in the office. She leaned against the counter with her arms crossed on her chest, looking ready to bite someone, starting with him. With her flawless profile and graceful posture, she looked like an angry angel.

  Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “Was the offer to support the Adamses in England dependent on my marrying you?”

  She’d always had a deep aversion to coercion. “No,” he replied. “Those are two separate issues.”

  She tilted her head to one side. “Then why did you make that offer to people who are virtually strangers?”

  “You mean what’s in it for me?” He mirrored her stance by leaning against the door frame with crossed arms, but in a much more relaxed fashion. “I can afford to help them get established in England, so why not? They’re good people and they deserve a chance to build the lives that they want. Plus, you care about them and they care about you.” He avoided using the words “love” or “family” since he suspected they were both fraught at the moment.

  “I thought of them as family,” she said in a tight voice. “Yet I didn’t know that Josh and Sarah had a son and another whole family here in the United States. Why didn’t they tell me?”

  The pain in her face was the reason he was glad he’d lost any ability to love. Exiled from her birth family, Callie had created a new family of her own, and now she was finding that she was more of an outsider than she’d realized.

  Choosing his words carefully, he said, “They were slaves, Callie. You always saw them as people who mattered and you freed them legally, but most of their lives were shaped by slavery. As a matter of survival, slaves learn to be very careful of what they say. That self-protection becomes an essential habit.”

  “But they’ve been free for three years, since we came to America,” she said plaintively. “Didn’t they know I would have helped them visit their son and his family?”

  He frowned, trying to come up with an explanation that would make sense to both of them. “When you came to Washington, you were the master. You gave them their freedom, you provided their home and their work and their money. You were their beloved friend, but you also held the power. It was second nature for them not to tell you more than was necessary.”

  “And coming to Baltimore broke that pattern,” she said slowly. “That makes sense. The world has turned upside down, the children aren’t really children anymore, and their grandparents are coming into their own as independent individuals.” She smiled ruefully. “I think I understand, but change hurts.”

  Despite the pain in her eyes, she was adjusting surprisingly well. A lot of women would be weeping with devastation. “They are all becoming butterflies, free to soar,” he said encouragingly. “That’s good.”

  “Yes, and they’re flying away from me,” she said wryly.

  “That’s what usually happens with children even under normal conditions.”

  “And my life hasn’t been normal.” She sighed. “I unconsciously assumed that we would continue on as we have the last three years, living together as a family. But now I realize that was inherently a temporary situation.” She swallowed hard. “Because I was happy, I didn’t look far enough into the future. Now I am looking, and I have no idea what is there.”

  “You’re already a butterfly. Choose your flower!” he said lightly. “But don’t survey a whole meadow full of flowers all at once. It’s too confusing.”

  She smiled. “It’s a good metaphor, but I’m not sure how far it can be pushed.”

  “All right, start with this. Take away considerations of family and think about where you would like to live. Here? Go back to Washington? England?” He held his breath, wondering what she would reply.

  Her forehead furrowed. “There is much I love about America, but my roots are still in England. That’s what I would choose if life was simple.” She smiled humorlessly. “I thought my family was here, but now I must rethink that.”

  “The core of your relationship to the Adamses hasn’t changed,” he said gently. “You love them and they love you. Soon you will no longer share your lives in the same way as in the past. But you will still be dear and much loved friends.”

  “Not family, though. Blood matters.” She bit her lip. “Maybe I should return to England. Learn what relative of mine cared enough to send you. Perhaps start a dressmaking business in a place like Bath. If I can sell the property in Washington, I’ll have enough money to set up a shop and cover my costs until I get back on my feet.”

  “That would work well.” He paused a beat, then said, “Or you could marry me.”

  Chapter 17

  Callie studied Richard where he leaned against the door frame, looking like a lounging lion. Too handsome to be real. Richard, both friend and stranger. “If you say that often enough, I might start to believe you and accept. Then you’d be stuck with me.”

  He smiled. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t prepared to accept the consequences.”

  Needing to know, she asked, “Why me, Richard? With your looks and birth and a comfortable fortune, you can easily find a wife if you want a family.”

  “Yes, but that would be so much work,” he said promptly.

  She grinned. “So I’m easiest? But I’m not an easy woman, and I won’t accept an easy answer. You can do better than that.”

  His levity vanished. “I’m ready for a change, Callie. I’ve never met any other woman I’d want to marry, but I’ve seen marriages I envy. Couples who truly enjoy each other’s company and who are completely loyal to each other. I’d like that too.”

  “And I’m here and you know my flaws, so you wouldn’t have to put much effort into getting acquainted?” she said dryly.

  “Exactly. We were best friends once and I think we could rub along comfortably.”

  “That is the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard of,” she said with a half smile.

  “There would be much to disappoint you in me,” he admitted. “As an adventurer, I’m boringly cautious and practical. As a husband, I’ll be incapable of poetic declarations of love. But I will always look out for you. And”—his voice dropped—“I rather like the idea of marrying my best friend.”

  As she studied his face, she realized that under his strength and confidence was loneliness. Her life had not been easy, but his had been worse.

  As a girl, she’d had the usual romantic dreams of falling madly in love with a worthy man who would love her equally. Perhaps only the young and idealistic could know that kind of love. Even if it didn’t last, they would have it for a while, at least.

  But if a great romantic love wasn’t going to happen, friendship wasn’t a bad substitute. “You’re making marriage seem . . . possible. But not when a battle may fall on us in the next few days.”

  “We could sail away with Hawkins and wait out the Battle of Baltimore in peaceful St. Michaels, but I doubt you’d agree to that. The marriage offer is open, dependent on events. For now, let’s go out and see if Hawkins is back on the Sally May.”

  She stood and headed toward the front door. “Are you going to ask him to wait while my complicated affairs are sorted out and decisions are made? That will take time.”

  Richard took the key to the outside door from a nail where Molly had hung it earlier, then opened the door fo
r her. “Hawkins has more than fulfilled his part of our initial bargain. I suspect that he’ll be keen to get away before the Royal Navy knocks on Baltimore’s door. Any sane man would be.”

  “So we’re not looking very sane, are we?” she said as she stepped onto the street.

  He gave her an intimate smile that did strange things to her pulse. “Sanity was never a strongpoint with either of us, was it?”

  He locked the door behind them, then escorted her the short distance to the Sally May, a light hand at the small of her back. She felt . . . claimed, and wasn’t sure if she liked the sensation or not.

  Hawkins was sitting in the Sally May’s cockpit puffing absently on a pipe as he studied the activity in the harbor. He looked up when Richard hailed him from the pier. “Hello there.” Moving with the balance of a sailor, he rose and offered Callie a hand down into the sailboat. “Did you find your family safe and happy? Are you ready to leave now?”

  She stepped carefully down into the cockpit and seated herself on one of the polished wooden bench seats. “Sorry, no. Naturally everything is more complicated than expected. We can’t leave now, so it’s probably time to say good-bye and Godspeed.”

  Richard followed her down into the cockpit. “You’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain, Hawkins. You’re free to head for home.”

  “Just how complicated has everything become?” Hawkins asked.

  “My stepson joined the militia and flatly refuses to leave, his grandmother is recovering from a fever and too weak to travel, and no one in the family is sure about going to England.” She gave Richard a sidelong glance. “I’m not sure, either.”

  Hawkins’s eyes showed sympathy for complicated situations. “What about you, Gordon? Seems to me you’ve done your duty also.”

  Richard shrugged. “I’m not leaving Callie on the brink of a major battle. I can arrange transport home later.”

  Hawkins frowned. “When I talked to the man I do business with here, he told me of a couple who desperately want to get to Norfolk, where their daughter and her family live. I said I’d take them there. It’s a good long sail down the Chesapeake in a small boat, so it will take several days to reach Norfolk, several more to return to St. Michaels.”

  “By then, it might be clear what will happen here in Baltimore,” Richard said thoughtfully.

  Hawkins nodded agreement. “I can’t wait indefinitely, but my ship is still undergoing repairs, so I can stay longer in St. Michaels while events unfold. After the battle, if there is one, I’ll sail back here if that’s possible to see if either of you want to return to Britain.”

  “That’s more than fair,” Callie said warmly. “I’m sorry this mission has become so complicated for you.”

  The captain chuckled. “It’s complications that make life interesting. I’ll be off on the early morning tide. You take care of yourselves.”

  He extended a hand and Richard shook it. “The same to you. I’ll go below and collect my possessions.”

  As he did that, Callie stood and brushed a kiss on Hawkins’s cheek. “Thank you. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  He said quietly, “I hope you find what you’re looking for, lass.”

  Richard emerged from the cabin with his satchel of possessions, then vaulted onto the pier and offered Callie his hand.

  “Do your attic quarters have space for me if I stay out of the way?”

  “Of course.” She smiled. “You can rearrange the tobacco barrels to create a nice private space for yourself.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, actually.” As they made their way back to the warehouse, he took her hand casually. She should have pulled away, but in a world where everything was shifting, Richard was solid. Reliable. A connection to a past that was simpler than the present.

  The waterfront was busy even this late in the day. Some merchants had found wagons to carry their goods out of town. Other people were clutching their possessions and boarding small boats. Though Baltimore wasn’t emptying out as Washington had, some residents were evacuating. But most were going about their business or wearing uniforms.

  Callie abruptly gasped and came to a stop, halting Richard because she held his hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Sorry.” Callie scanned the people ahead, then started walking again. “I caught a glimpse of a man who looked like my stepson, Henry. That happened a lot when I first came to the United States. Not as much lately, but all the uncertainty is making me jumpy.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t him?”

  She nodded her head. “He lives in Jamaica and I can’t imagine him coming here in the middle of a war. I’m just on edge because of all that’s going on.”

  They reached Newell’s and Richard unlocked the door. Callie asked, “What will you do with yourself while we wait for the war to come to us? I can’t imagine that you want to join one of the Maryland militia units.”

  “I won’t fight my own people. Nor would I fire on Americans if I was with British troops.” He grinned at her. “But I can dig ditches.”

  “So you’ll work on defense but not offense,” she said thoughtfully as she headed up the stairs. “Fair enough.”

  “If the defenses are good enough, the British forces may choose not to try to invade the city. They haven’t a huge number of troops and Ross isn’t fool enough to throw lives away by attacking entrenched forces that won’t run this time.”

  “A British retreat is possible?” she asked hopefully.

  “Yes, but I don’t know how likely it is. We can ask Josh how the earthworks are coming.” They reached the top of the stairs and he held the door open for her.

  When they entered the main living space, Richard announced, “I’m going to be staying here for the duration. I’ll try not to be too much trouble.”

  Josh was setting a table with Trey’s assistance, but he cocked a quizzical brow at Richard. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. Need something to do?”

  “I told Callie I’d volunteer to dig trenches east of the city if idle hands are still needed,” Richard said.

  Josh looked shocked that a man so obviously aristocratic would do such work, but recovered quickly. “You look like you have a strong back, so I expect you’ll be welcome. If you don’t want to ruin your London tailoring, I can lend you some clothes. We’re near the same size.”

  “That would be welcome.” Richard indicated his satchel. “I’ve been traveling with very little.”

  “Rather than digging ditches, you should join the militia.” Trey grinned. “It’s more fun and the uniform is better. Do you know how to shoot?”

  “I’m a tolerable shot, but I don’t want to kill either British or American soldiers,” Richard explained. “Digging ditches should keep me out of trouble.”

  Callie knew that he was a superb shot, so all the more reason to avoid active military duty. From the murmur of voices in Sarah’s room, she knew that Molly was tending her grandmother, but she was surprised to see a young, blond militiaman enter from the balcony. She smiled at him. “You must be a friend of Trey’s?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said shyly. “I’m Peter Carroll. Usually I read law, but this week I’m a soldier. Trey said I could come for supper and gawp at his sister.”

  He was a nice-looking young man a couple of years older than Trey, and he blushed charmingly when Molly emerged from Sarah’s room. Interestingly, Molly seemed equally taken with him. “Hello, Peter! I’m so glad you could join us. The guest list is expanding so it’s lucky I bought a loaf of bread to go with the pork pie and salad!”

  Molly looked tired, but she was taking on the duties of cook and lady of the house very well. Callie realized that she herself wasn’t really needed, not anymore. With a mental sigh, she tucked that knowledge away with all the other realizations that her life was changing.

  They sat down to their supper a few minutes later. The meal was one of the most enjoyable Callie had ever experienced even though the food was plain and the people sitting around t
he table were very diverse. Perhaps imminent danger made such moments of shared pleasure special.

  Trey and Peter returned to their regiment when the meal was over. It didn’t take long to sort out their new living arrangements. Josh and Sarah had slept together until she became ill, but then they’d split the two bedrooms into male and female quarters. Molly slept on a pallet by her grandmother to look after her while Josh and Trey had turned the other bedroom into a male dormitory. That way Molly was on call for nursing duty and Sarah wasn’t disturbed when her husband left early to work on the city’s fortifications.

  Since it was summer, a blanket and an improvised pillow sufficed to make up a pallet for Callie on the other side of Sarah’s bed, with the same for Richard beside Josh. Josh tried to give him the bed, but Richard cheerfully pointed out that he wasn’t the one with the old bones. Trey would sleep in that room if he had an overnight visit home.

  Despite her disquiet over the way things were changing, Callie slept well and happily. Except for Trey, all the people she loved best were under this rough-beamed roof. She prayed that a month from now, they’d all be equally hale and happy.

  Chapter 18

  Digging ditches was extremely hard work. Gordon had known that, of course, and he was not unfamiliar with heavy labor. But building earthworks was its own particular form of exhausting.

  By the end of the day, he was covered with mud and had sore muscles in places where he hadn’t known he had muscles. Josh noticed, but had the tact not to point out that Gordon looked as if a field of derby horses had raced over him. Several times.

  By the time they reached Newell’s, he barely had the energy to eat a few mouthfuls of bread and cheese before he headed for his pallet, stripped off his muddy garments, and collapsed. Before consciousness slipped away entirely, he heard Josh say with a chuckle, “Gotta give that white boy credit. He knows how to work.”

  “Oh?” Callie’s voice had a tart edge.

  “That was a high compliment, Miss Callista. You’d hardly know he was a gentleman when he was digging away with his shovel.”