by Cindy Nord
He motioned for Jubal to lower him into the opening.
The giant complied, wrapping a well-muscled arm around his waist.
Steady.
Go slow.
Brennen eased down a few more inches, then shoved aside the metal bed frame where she’d huddled. On a strong inhale, he slipped his arms beneath her frail body.
Clutching her rosary to her chest, she whispered, “I-I prayed you’d come.”
“You did, huh?” he replied, careful with his every movement. “Well, your worship, you just keep on prayin’, ‘cause we’re not out of all this yet.”
Move!
The crackle of the fire increased. Debris around her shifted.
She gasped and clung tighter, her sodden black veil falling forward, cloaking his arm and shoulder from the rapidly advancing flames.
The heat inched closer. Sparks lashed out, and burned the top of his hand. He grit his teeth against the pain and hollered over his shoulder. “Now Jubal! Pull us up!”
Flames flashed his face.
The heat intensified.
A jerk. By slow degrees he began to move.
“Just so you know, Monsieur Benedict,” the abbess rasped against his neck. “You’re good side is beginning to s-show.”
He snorted, “Well, m’lady, this time I do believe you’re right.” And as he lifted the frail body to safety, Brennen swore he heard the old curmudgeon chuckle.
Unbidden, a sense of serenity calmed him. Pride? In his acceptance of his responsibilities? Or in the faith that this intrepid woman had placed in him months ago? He had no answer. Except for the first time in years, he felt at peace.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brennen organized crews to clear away the debris. Within the hour additional neighbors arrived to help in the cleanup. Smoke curled upward from one of the bonfires, flames growing as more splintered wood and rubble landed atop the heap. The scent of burning pine and hardwoods permeated the clearing, mingling with the popping sound of embers as the splintered beams and tree limbs stoked the flames.
By sunset, several wagons filled with townsfolk from Owensborough rolled into the compound, their rigs stuffed with goods and supplies for the nuns. Several men staked off and raised wall tents to provide shelter for the good sisters. Even Doctor Jordan, pale features ghostlike in the rapidly fading light, had showed up and commandeered the roofed portion of the church as a medical ward for the injured. He treated the more serious cases before moving on to the next.
As darkness fell and light from the half-dozen fires illuminated the bustling crowds, Brennen strode through the make-shift medical ward, a boxful of supplies propped on his shoulder. He caught sight of Annabelle tending to a farmer’s fractured arm. She lifted her head and met his gaze. Her features flushed a becoming rosy hue, heightened by the flickering light. A smile tilted her lips upward.
Heat shot through him on a sizzling current as his heart missed a beat.
The blush on her face deepened.
And he couldn’t stop the damn smile that creased his mouth.
“Let me have a look at your hand, Benedict,” a deep voice on his right ordered.
He turned and spotted Doctor Jordan, a blood-streaked apron covering the man’s finely tailored suit. Shit. They hadn’t shared two words since the man’s recent visit and Brennen’s consequent dismissal of him. The argument with Annabelle that had followed flashed into recall increasing his godawful discomfort.
“I’m fine,” Brennen said as he kept walking. “Thanks anyway.”
“Nonsense.” Jordan’s hand gripped his elbow, stopping him in mid-stride. “I’m the doctor, remember? I’ll offer up the diagnosis.”
Cornered.
Short of decking the sonofabitch right here, Brennen shrugged. “It’s nothing.” A quick signal to a nearby worker and he passed off the box of supplies. “Trust me. I’ve suffered far worse.”
“As have I.” On a chuckle, Jordan pointed down. “Bum leg courtesy of my war years, so I understand the levels of a man’s suffering. Still, a smear of ointment and a bandage can’t hurt, right?” The doctor limped to his supplies, gathered what he needed, then returned and began to dress the burn on Brennen’s hand.
Efficiently skilled and friendly to boot. Brennen sniffed. Hard to dislike the freak. The fact that jealousy might’ve colored his opinion of the man bit through him.
“There.” The doctor stepped back. “Remove the bandage in a couple of days. Should be better by then.”
Brennen flexed his fingers. Surprisingly, the damned thing felt better. He offered a slight nod as the embarrassment of their first meeting faded. “Not bad, Doc. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
“And, about that day back at my place...” he paused, having a hard time forcing out the exact words.
“Completely forgotten,” the man replied, then cleared his throat. “Besides, I had no call to come unannounced or meddle in your affairs.”
My affairs?
From behind them one of the nuns, the tall and scrawny one, asked, “Shall I resupply your medical case, Doctor Jordan?”
“Yes, please,” he answered, offering a quick glance over his shoulder. “Sister Marie, is it?”
She nodded.
The doctor’s smile widened. “Do you have any experience in these sort of things? Medical things, I mean?”
The nun opened the latch on the bag. “Yes.” Her black veil fell forward as she reached for fresh bandages from a battered table, then stuffed them inside the opening. “During the war, a few of our Ursuline Order…the Order of the Sisters of the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul were sent to assist with the wounded in field hospitals near Gettysburg.” She shrugged. “Union. Confederate. Didn’t matter who we nursed. They were all children of God.” Sadness eked through her words as she added in the medicine bottles. “Since Philadelphia was less than a hundred miles away, we rode over in carriages. The aftermath of battle.” She tsked. “Such terrible suffering.”
“Y-You were at Gettysburg?” Surprised registered across his pale features. He slipped an arm across her bent shoulders, offering a comforting pat. “I had no idea. Having served on the field hospital staff there, I worked with several of your wonderful sisters myself.” He lowered his arm. “I was an assistant to Doctor Jonathan Letterman. Did you know him?”
The sister shook her head.
“The man completely changed the way we care for patients,” the doctor continued, “both on and off a battlefield. In fact, I used his prioritizing methods today, treating the worst of the wounded first and the minimally affected patient thereafter. Unfortunately, he resigned his commission after the Mine Run Campaign in ‘64. Political issues, I believe.” He paused, his face brightening. “Regardless, Sister Marie, I’m wondering if you might be available to help me back in town. Temporarily, of course, until I can hire someone full-time. I offer room and board, and excellent pay. I’m certain my mother will approve of you.”
She stared at him with wide doe-brown eyes. “Help you, doctor? How?”
“In my practice. You see, I’m in desperate need of a skilled nursing assistant.”
“I’m not sure if I can,” the nun added, fiddling with the handle on his case. “W-We must ask the abbess.”
He scooped the medical bag from her hand, plopped the satchel onto a box beside Brennen, then shot him a sly grin. “We’ll talk later, Benedict.” He lowered his voice. “Right now, I’m about to hire myself a much-needed nurse.”
Against the crackle and pop of the bonfire, the tension in Brennen’s shoulders eased. The man wasn’t so bad after all. Stifling a smile, he glanced from the doctor to the nun, and then back again, too aware of how a ‘good sister’ could toss one’s life upside down. “Good luck with that.”
“I do love a challenge.” With a wink of his pinkish-blue eye, Jordan turned away. “Of course, I understand you must ask the abbess, my dear. Shall we go see her now? In fact, I must check on her status, anyway.”
Brennen chuckled as they strolled toward the Reverend Mother resting comfortably on a nearby cot. Their mumbled discussion was lost beneath the other conversations around him, but the handshake that soon followed confirmed the loan of the good sister to the doctor’s practice…at least for the time being.
Wait a minute…if Sister Marie had excellent nursing skills, then why the hell had the Reverend Mother chosen Annabelle to assist him with Ruby’s recovery? His gaze narrowed on the abbess. Crafty old fox.
* * * *
By midnight, exhaustion had everyone heading home from Mount Maple and much to Annabelle’s relief, the nuns had given Brennen time away from his brickmaking to attend to the needs of Le Belle Maison.
Additional workers were hired to help with the cleanup, and by mid-morning a sea of white tents undulated across the meadow behind the summer kitchen. Axes in hand, the hired men split downed trees, and within hours the stacks of firewood grew. By late afternoon the wreckage and debris around the manor house had been cleared away.
The next morning, skilled carpenters arrived from the surrounding area. Under Brennen’s guidance, the rebuilding of the estate now began. Amid the sounds of pounding hammers, rasp of saws, and the curses of hard-working craftsmen, where the cabins of the plantation had previously stood, the foundation of a larger bricked cottage took shape. As construction of the foreman’s house moved forward, the women kept busy with meal preparations and the canning of their summer vegetables.
By weeks’ end, Brennen hired more skilled laborers to construct a new back porch and veranda, the decks even wider than before. The addition of ornate scroll work to the upstairs bannister and the corners of all six supporting beams that braced the massive structure added elegance and design.
The tenth day following the storm, amid tears and laughter, Jubal and Ruby moved into their promised bricked dwelling stuffed full of new furnishings. The next afternoon, while workers painted the back veranda a gleaming white, the ladies sat beneath the shade of Ruby’s front porch and sewed curtains for the six windows that graced the sturdy brick abode.
A full two weeks after the destructive tornado the extra workers had completed their tasks, were paid, and departed.
Quiet returned to Le Belle Maison.
A soft breeze swirled over Annabelle as she stood before Brennen on the upper story of his new veranda. Mouth agape, she stared at the wicker furniture that must’ve been delivered while she’d been at Mount Maple helping with the sisters.
The glow of several lamps glimmered in the fast-approaching twilight, sending tendrils of light across the space.
“Knew how much you enjoyed listening to the night sounds,” Brennen said, a wide grin spreading across his handsome face.
He’d slicked his long hair back, and the fine sable shine accentuated the brightness in his eyes. Clothed in a fashionable dark suit, he swirled a half-full glass of whiskey as he leaned against the railing that ran the length of the gallery. A pleasing fragrance carried to Annabelle on the breeze. She inhaled, reveling in his clean scent, a touch of spice entwined with a hint of man.
“Thought you might want to give the new chair a try,” he said, gesturing to the wicker seat by the open doorway to her bedroom.
Annabelle smoothed her hand over the curved back, the rocker big enough for two. “Oh Brennen,” she whispered, “this is all so…”
Words failed her as she peered across the expensive furniture grouped along the upper gallery. Tall stands held overflowing baskets of ferns, while beside the greenery, elegantly cushioned settees and loungers offered a place of rest. A round table with matching chairs and a beverage cart finished the opulent wicker setting.
Just like he’d promised, Brennen had spared no expense in putting everything back into order for those residing here. In the case of Ruby’s new abode, as well as this upstairs veranda, they were even more magnificent than before.
“Where are my manners?” he said. “May I fetch you something to drink?”
Overwhelmed, her gaze lifted to his and she nodded.
Brennen strode to the nearby cart. Wine gurgled as he poured her a generous glassful. “I always imagined a veranda decked out like this.” The decanter top gripped in his hand, he motioned across the setting. “So I thought…why the hell not, right?” Chuckling, he passed her the goblet. “Even had the wicker brought down from Louisville, too…you know, money talks.”
Speechless, she took a sip. As she swallowed the sweet taste of the Madeira tingled on her tongue. His choice of furnishings, the elegant setting, everything perfectly matched his sense of style. Heat climbed Annabelle’s cheeks as she stared at the soiled hem of the garment she’d worn all week.
Tears swelled.
Blinking, she struggled to contain them. In the past month she’d spent little time with this most-giving man, so the note he’d left on the dining room table requesting this brief meeting upon her return from Mount Maple had caught her by surprise.
Tightening her grip around the crystal, she lowered into the chair. An easy push set forth the rocking motion. Silky smooth. The finest she’d ever experienced. A blasted tear slipped over. Another followed, then several more, chilling her face in the cool breeze.
“My god, Annabelle…y-you’re crying,” he rasped. He erased the distance between them and placed his drink on the sidetable as he knelt before her. He took her glass and settled the crystal on the stand near his. “Look,” he said, concern underscoring his words. “If you don’t like the chair, or any of the other things, make a list and I’ll have all this wicker hauled away tomorrow. I just wanted you to be hap--”
“N-No,” she cut in, the words riding on the back of her broken sob. “I love everything. Truly, Brennen. You’ve no idea how much.”
Don’t be a ninny! He deserves a strong woman who can show her gratitude. Annabelle banked her tears and peered up into his widened eyes. The concern she’d seen earlier shifted into something more, something wonderful, something she’d been waiting for weeks to see again.
She fumbled with the top button of her soiled blouse. “It’s just that I’m hoping I’ve time to freshen a bit before dinner?”
“Absolutely.” With a smile, he stood, and then bowed. “Ruby will bring you up some hot water. While you bathe, I’m off to check with Ellie as to the status of our dinner. Had a taste for mutton this evening, or rather a nice rack of lamb. I hope the choice is agreeable with you?”
“Of course,” she said, dashing away the lingering tears of joy. If only she could douse as easily the growing desire burning through her for this man. “Sounds delicious.”
“Sheep,” he said with a lopsided grin as he swept up his whiskey. “Who would’ve thought?” Tsking, he turned and strode across the veranda toward his room. The soft tap of his boots upon polished wood echoed in his wake. At the open door he paused, and glanced back at her. “I’m looking forward to our meal, ma chère. Until then…” With his smooth Virginia drawl swimming though her veins, he stepped from view.
A deep inhale helped to control the rush of…what? Desire? Yes. Desire. Brennen Benedict, you are such a rogue. “All the better, I do believe,” she muttered to the twinkling fireflies. A warmth flowed through her as she slipped her hand around the stemware.
Madeira met her tongue.
Magnificent.
Annabelle swallowed, marveling in the bold, sweet taste as the remembered pressure of Brennen’s lips upon hers evoked another smile, another sip, another lovely swallow that swooshed around her unraveling control. Indeed, the charmer was rather more a wolf in sheep’s clothing than not. Yet, she couldn’t call back her giggle lifting on the evening breeze.
She rocked to and fro as twilight gave way to darkness.
The flicker of fireflies multiplied.
Incredibly, peace had returned to her little corner of the world.
All because of him.
An hour later, a refreshing bath revitalizing her and having donned her gown, Annabelle sat bef
ore the lady’s table peering into the mirror.
“OoohWeee, Miz Annabelle! Just look at you!” Ruby exclaimed, stepping back to clap her hands in approval. “Dressed fancy enough for an evenin’ ball. Yo’s an angel who’s worked hard for weeks. Give yo’self permission to enjoy this night.”
Annabelle blinked back tears as emotion balled in her throat. Inside, her happiness faded. She didn’t deserve such praise. Far from someone to admire, she was rather a runaway liar wanted for murder. Time had passed since she’d fled, yet fear at what her brother-in-law might do if he found her lingered. Still, she’d found safety, and so much more, at Le Belle Maison.
Her chest tightened.
Should she run the risk of telling Brennen she’d been framed for a murder she hadn’t committed? Her heart stumbled over its next beat as tension gnawed at her stomach. Would he even believe her?
Tell him!
She shivered at the whispered plea. Though their bond had grown, dangerously so, and he made her crave for a life she’d believed long gone – Non…he must never know the truth. Edward remained back east…
…and she was here.
Ce soir, savoure – tonight she would enjoy the moment!
“Thank you, mon amie,” she said, offering a rueful smile to Ruby. “I haven’t donned anything this fancy in weeks.”
“Well, yo’s born to shine.” Lamplight caught the glint of the sapphire jewels draped around Annabelle’s neck. Stones as blue as the ocean winked back. Her sapphire earbobs glittered as well.
Ruby squeezed her bare shoulders. “Now, if’n dere’s nothing more you need, Miz Annabelle, I’ll be headin’ home. We’s got a fancy dinner waiting for us this evenin’, too. Compliments of Mista Brennen.” As she walked to the door she waved toward the slipper tub near the hearth. “And jest leave dat ol’ thing dere. I’ll empty ‘er in da mornin’.”
Nodding, Annabelle smiled. “That’s fine. And again, I appreciate your helping me dress this evening.”