by Jane Peart
JoBeth felt a little reluctant to play the role Amelia expected. She felt awkward to be entertaining Confederate soldiers while Wes was arranging for her to join him in enemy territory! But there was nothing she could do but comply with her hostess’ request.
She had brought a few summer dresses with her, having been warned by her mother that even in early September, Richmond might still be hot. From these, she chose a yellow organdy with a portrait collar embroidered with small yellow daisies. When she was dressed, she went downstairs and out into the garden.
Summer weather lingered, but in the late afternoon Amelia’s brick-walled garden was shadowed by leafy fruit trees. Curlicued white iron benches and chairs were placed in small groups surrounding a lily pond in which goldfish could be seen under the lily pads. It was such a tranquil place, seemingly remote from the war and whatever was going on only a few miles away. For a few minutes JoBeth was alone there, relishing the serenity.
Soon Amelia, a lacy cloth over one arm, bustled out, followed by Deliah, who was carrying a large glass punchbowl. As she passed JoBeth, Amelia said over her shoulder, “It’s so lovely and cool, I thought we could have our refreshment out here before we go in to supper.” JoBeth helped them use the cloth to cover a table at the far end of the garden, then helped set out rows of small cups.
It wasn’t long before the guests began to arrive. A half dozen young officers, smart in pressed gray uniforms, were soon followed by four extremely pretty young women. The young ladies immediately embarked on a lively repartee with the officers, as if this sort of party were something they did by rote. JoBeth had heard that wartime Richmond was a constant circus for belles. Now she believed it as she watched them ply their artful coquetry.
JoBeth felt suddenly shy. She had been so long out of the social swing of Hillsboro—having been not invited, overlooked, or simply left out—that she had almost forgotten her social skills. Feeling inadequate to the occasion, she retreated to a bench half hidden by a huge magnolia bush. Here she could stay until she got her bearings, felt a little more at ease, she told herself.
It was from this vantage point that she saw a tall, slim officer, his right arm in a black satin sling, escorted by Amelia to the trellised entrance of the garden. Then Amelia was evidently called back into the house on some domestic errand, leaving him standing alone. In a moment of startled recognition, JoBeth saw that it was Curtis Channing.
Chapter Seventeen
Again JoBeth was struck by Curtis’s extraordinary good looks. She noticed he had grown a mustache and that it suited him. He was perhaps leaner but still held himself with that combination of assurance and athletic grace shown to such advantage in his well-fitting gray uniform. There was something else about him, something not so familiar. His expression had a maturity and character that it might have lacked before.
As she stared, stunned by this unexpected arrival, his glance caught hers. For a full minute neither of them moved. Her heart gave a little leap. Before he had taken a step, she knew he was coming over to her. She half rose from the bench. A few seconds later he was standing there, towering over her. She saw he now had captain’s bars on his collar. They looked at each other. Then Curtis said huskily, “JoBeth! What are you doing here? I never thought I’d see you again.”
She swallowed, trying to find her voice. When it came out, it sounded high and rather shaky. “I’m staying with the Brookes. I’ve been here about a week.”
His eyes swept over her, moving from her dark hair to her eyes, lingering on her mouth, where her lower lip was now trembling.
“I’m so—glad to see you,” Curtis said slowly. “I could hardly believe my eyes. For a minute, I thought I might be dreaming—could it really be you?”
JoBeth found relief from her tension by laughing lightly. “Yes, it’s me. No illusion.” She was trying hard to regain her composure, to stop feeling so dizzy, so at a loss. She gestured toward the sling. “What happened? Were you wounded?”
He shrugged, dismissing her concern. “Nothing more than a flesh wound, actually. My shoulder took a slight hit.” With a cynical smile, he said offhandedly, “Those Yankees are damn poor shots.” Immediately realizing he had cursed in front of a lady, he quickly said, “Sorry. Now tell me about you. How do you happen to be in Richmond? I thought travel was difficult, nearly impossible, these days.”
How much she should say without telling a lie? She sat down again on the bench, shifting her crinolines to make room for Curtis beside her, and said, “Actually, Mrs. Brooke is an old school friend of my mother’s, and everyone agreed it might be a good idea for me to visit.”
It seemed a plausible enough explanation, but JoBeth could see from the slight frown between Curtis’s dark eyebrows that it didn’t satisfy him. She might have been pushed into saying more, except at just that moment Amelia came upon them and greeted Curtis effusively.
“Ah, I see my hero has found my house guest! How lovely. He won’t tell you, I’m sure, my dear, but Curtis is one of the bravest of our young men. With no thought to his own safety, he returned not only once but twice into the line of fire to rescue two of his badly wounded men.” She smiled dotingly upon him, patting his shoulder fondly. “Now, you must give him special treatment this evening, JoBeth, since he is just out of the hospital and deserves our attention and care.”
With that Amelia floated away in a swirl of ruffles to circulate among her other guests.
JoBeth looked at Curtis. “So you are distinguishing yourself in battle.”
“Nothing more than any of us would do under the circumstances.” His frown got deeper. “Enough of that. What interests me is, How long are you going to be here?”
“I’m not sure just how long,” JoBeth answered. “What about you?”
“Until the doctors certify I can go back to my regiment. I have day passes from the hospital now. But the doctors want me to be out and exercising, getting back on my feet, starting to ride again, before they release me back to duty.”
JoBeth glanced at the sling. “Can you do that? Ride, I mean, with one arm?”
Curtis shook his head slightly, indicating how unimportant he considered this. “It’s almost completely healed. I have to get the strength back into it. Thank God that my horse survived. Both of my horses are stabled here in Richmond, and my man is looking after them.”
The garden was filling up with new arrivals. The buzz of voices, laughter, the clink of punch glasses, began to flow around them. Curtis bent toward her. “The important thing is, When can I see you again? I mean, alone.” Then he asked abruptly, “Do you ride?”
She looked startled. “Yes, of course, but—”
“What if I come tomorrow, then? You can ride my other horse. She’s a lovely, sweet-tempered mare.” He looked at her eagerly.
“I’m not sure, Curtis. I don’t know if Mrs. Brooke might need me or have other plans …”
He dismissed her protest. “Never mind about that. I’ll clear it with her. It would be a real favor. Zephyr needs exercising.”
“Come along, you two,” Amelia’s voice reached them. “We’re going in to supper now.”
“Tomorrow, then? Say, two o’clock.” It was more of a directive than a request.
JoBeth hesitated a split second. Perhaps it would be better to see Curtis alone and, without revealing to him the complete truth, tell him she had come to Richmond to meet her fiance. He need not know who it was or that Wes was a Union officer. The bare facts were all that were necessary. This evening, among all this company, would be an inappropriate time.
“All right, tomorrow,” she murmured. “Now I must go help Amelia serve,” she said and hurried away.
At the supper table, she was seated between two of Colonel Brooke’s junior officers and so did not have another chance to talk to Curtis. However, she was often conscious of his eyes upon her during the meal.
JoBeth was surprised that there was less war talk there in the immediate vicinity of the conflict than there had been
in similar gatherings in Hillsboro. Perhaps here they purposely avoided speaking of the current Southern situation, being anxious for some respite from the constant pressure of campaigns, looking for a relaxing evening of enjoyable company.
The evening progressed pleasantly enough. However, even while she chatted with some of the other officers, JoBeth was aware of Curtis’s eyes upon her. Anytime she happened to look his way, she met his gaze. There was both admiration and hope in it. Again she prayed she had not made a mistake by agreeing to go riding with him alone.
When all the party had left and JoBeth was helping Amelia gather up the empty glasses, the napkins, and the coffee cups, she told her about Curtis’s invitation.
“I couldn’t be more delighted, my dear!” Amelia glowed. “Jacob considers Curtis Channing one of the most outstanding young officers he’s ever known. Not a shred of fear in him, not a timid bone. He’s all man, all courage.” She rushed on, saying, “I’m so glad you can make his leave a happy one. I’m afraid he’s pushing his superiors to let him go back to his regiment. Maybe too soon.” She clucked her tongue, and a sad, worried expression shadowed her face. “We’ve lost so many of our wonderful young men—” She halted, as if remembering JoBeth’s particular circumstances. Then she gave a small shudder and, quickly picking up some more cups and saucers, bustled off in the direction of the kitchen.
JoBeth stood there for a minute, looking after her, holding two plates of crumbled cake in her hands, thinking about what an awkward situation she had put everyone in.
Chapter Eighteen
The next afternoon, JoBeth, dressed in the dark-blue riding habit she had borrowed from Amelia, stood at the parlor window, waiting for Curtis. Since last night, she’d had all sorts of second thoughts about going riding with him. First of all, she worried that by accepting, she might have given him some kind of false hope, given him reason to think she might have changed her mind. After all, he had proposed to her. Secondly—and this was what bothered her most—she wondered if she was being disloyal to Wes. Perhaps it would have been more honest to have somehow found a private moment the night before and simply refused Curtis’s invitation. Well, it was too late now. Whatever happened, she had to go through with it.
Just then she saw Curtis, on horseback, looking splendid in his gray tunic, sporting a black felt hat with a jaunty plume, coming around the corner. He had another horse, a sleek, cinnamon-colored mare wearing a sidesaddle, on a lead. In spite of herself, JoBeth’s heart beat a little faster.
She heard the doorbell ring, footsteps along the hall, the door opening, then Amelia’s lilting voice greeting Curtis. Next Delilah came to the parlor door.
“Miss Davison, yo’ genemun is here to fetch you.”
“Thank you, I’ll be right there,” she replied. Nervously she pulled on her leather riding gloves.
Taking a deep breath, JoBeth hooked her riding skirt to the loop on the side and went out into the hall, where Curtis was waiting. She couldn’t miss his pleasure at seeing her. His eyes shone, his mouth lifted in a broad smile.
“Ready to ride?” he asked.
Amelia beamed at them both, like an approving mother. “I think it’s just delightful you’re taking JoBeth out into the countryside, Captain. It will do her a world of good—and you too, I’ve no doubt.” As they went out the door together, she called after them, “Have a lovely time now, do.”
JoBeth stepped up on the mounting block at the curb while Curtis held her horse’s bridle. He assisted her into the sidesaddle, then handed her the reins. As he affectionately patted the horse’s neck, he said, “Easy now, Zephyr has a sensitive mouth. You’ll do just fine together.”
Satisfying himself that she was comfortably settled, Curtis swung up onto his own horse, a feat he accomplished smoothly, even with his one arm still in the sling. They started off at a walk, then moved into a trot further along. There were other riders out, mostly men in uniform who saluted Curtis. He returned their salute smartly with his good arm while holding the reins loosely with the other. What horsemanship, JoBeth thought admiringly. Surely Curtis was as at home in a saddle as he would have been in a rocking chair on somebody’s porch.
He had been right about Zephyr—an easy ride, a gentle mount. It took only the slightest touch of her rein or pressure of her knee to guide her.
Curtis looked at JoBeth, smiling, and pointed ahead. “We take a right turn down here at the crossroads.”
Following Curtis, she soon found herself away from the main thoroughfare and on a beautiful stretch of road. All along the roadside, Queen Anne’s lace and wild purple asters bloomed. The day was pleasantly warm but had lost the humidity of the last week. In fact, JoBeth sensed a hint of fall in the air.
She was riding alongside Curtis now, as there was no other traffic in the road. He glanced over at her with such open admiration that it sent a blush soaring into her cheeks and she had to turn away. Only a minute later Curtis reached for her bridle and brought both their horses to a stop.
“I can’t help it, JoBeth. I could hardly sleep last night, thinking of what a happy chance seeing you again was. Remember, I believe in destiny. I told you that last Christmas.”
JoBeth started to protest, but he shook his head and went on, saying, “I’ve never gotten over you. I’ve thought of you ever since—since I left you at the train station in Hillsboro. Thought about if we’d had more time, how things might have been different—”
“Please, Curtis, stop.” JoBeth put up her hand as if to stem the flow of words. “Don’t go on—”
“It’s no use, JoBeth. Can’t you admit that the two of us meeting again has some meaning?”
“I can’t listen to this, Curtis. Please. Nothing’s changed. The only reason I came out with you today was because I felt I had to try to make you understand.”
“Understand what? I can’t help loving you. What could you possibly say or do to change that?”
“I told you in Hillsboro and I’m telling you now, Curtis. There’s someone else. I’m pledged to someone else.” He had to know, she had to tell him, so she rushed on, explaining, “Last evening you asked me what I was doing in Richmond. Curtis, I’m here to meet him.”
There. It was out, she’d said it. She watched for his reaction.
“He’s a soldier, then.” It was more a statement than a question.
“Yes,” she nodded. Her breath was shallow, her heart pounding. He didn’t need to know more. She prayed he wouldn’t ask for details. Like information about his regiment, or what his commanding officer’s name was.
Curtis frowned and stared over his horse’s head at some distant point. Then slowly he turned back to her. A smile parted his lips under the mustache, showing a glimpse of his even, white teeth. He spoke softly, almost jokingly.
“Well, all’s fair in love and war, isn’t it? Even if I’m competing with a fellow soldier. I’m here and he isn’t—at least not yet. Don’t I have a chance to plead my case, try to win you?”
“There’s no contest, Curtis,” she said seriously. “This is someone I’ve known and loved most of my life.”
“There’s love, and there’s being in love,” he reminded her, still smiling. “Do you know the difference?”
She blushed. Had he read her mind? Had he somehow been aware that in spite of herself, she had felt excited, breathless, a little dizzy, at seeing him last evening? Had she inadvertently given him encouragement?
He leaned over, and she shrank back in her saddle, afraid he was going to touch her. The horses were getting fidgety at being held still.
“What are you frightened of, JoBeth? Your own feelings?”
“Of course not!” she said indignantly. Then she said firmly, “If you are going on like this, Curtis, we’d better turn around and go back.”
He lifted his hand from her horse’s bridle immediately.
“No, I apologize. I want us to go on. There’s a spot up here I want you to see. It’s by a stream, and the horses can get a drink and
we can … talk.” He flicked his reins, and his horse started off. Zephyr was glad to follow. The winding road, bordered with trees that were golden with the first touch of autumn, stretched before them. Enjoying her mount’s easy gait and the beauty of the Indian summer afternoon, JoBeth relaxed a bit.
When Curtis left the road to go down a grassy path, she turned her horse in the direction he was heading. She soon found herself in a glade where willows bent over a rushing stream. Curtis dismounted and led his horse to drink. JoBeth did the same. Everything seemed stilled. The sounds of the busy city had been left far behind. A light breeze rustled the willow branches, and there was a scent of pine and of sun-warmed wildflowers. They sat down on a fallen log overlooking the stream, where sunshine glistened on the water as it rushed quietly over the rocks. For a few minutes the serenity of the place seemed to envelop them.
Feeling warm, JoBeth took off the riding hat and untied the attached velvet snood. She shook out her hair from where it had been clubbed under the net and lifted it to cool off the back of her neck.
“It’s lovely here!” she sighed contentedly.
“I thought you’d like it,” Curtis said. “I discovered it one of the first days they let me ride. A respite from the pandemonium of the hospital.”
They sat there listening to the woodland sounds—an insect buzzing among the ferns, the sound of a woodpecker. At length Curtis broke the silence.
“Peaceful, isn’t it? Hard to believe that a few miles from here, men are killing each other.” The edge of bitterness in his voice startled JoBeth. She glanced at him. His expression was grave. He reached over and took her hand.