To Capture the Sky (Choices of the Heart, book 2)

by Jennie Marsland

  “How often does this happen?”

  “Not often now. Not for a year, until…”

  “Until I came.” Beth reached for his hand. “Trey, talk to me.”

  Trey pulled his hand back. He’d rather have Beth’s contempt than her pity, but then he glanced at her and realized she wasn’t offering him pity. What he saw on her face was love, plain and simple. He couldn’t destroy it with the truth. “There’s no point, Beth. Some memories aren’t worth sharing. It wouldn’t do anyone any good.”

  Beth sat up straight, her voice brisk and matter-of-fact. “No? I’ve always found that putting things into words cuts them down to size. Besides, I think I can piece things together fairly well from what you were saying when I woke you.”

  A fresh wave of horror rolled over Trey. “I was talking?” How much did you tell her?

  “Yes. Correct me if I’m wrong. Your friend Justin, the one you mentioned a while ago, was killed in action. You saw it happen.”

  Trey picked up a rock and tossed it in the river. The ripples it made spread and vanished with the current. How many times had he relived that night? “Yeah.”

  He wanted to get away, find somewhere to hide, but Beth’s calm, even voice held him there. “I’m sorry. Tell me about him.”

  Perhaps if he gave her that much, she’d let it rest. “Justin and I were friends from the time we were six or seven. His folks were rich planters, but they didn’t mind us being friends. Justin had been sick when he was younger and they figured it was good for him to be outdoors with me, even if I was only a farmer’s son. We played together, chased girls together, got drunk for the first time together. We were as close as a lot of brothers are, I guess.”

  Trey hadn’t spoken Justin’s name to anyone since his death. Saying it now hurt even more than he expected.

  Beth moved a little closer. Her scent wrapped itself around him like a comforting arm. “So, you enlisted together? Justin felt the same way you did about the war?”

  “No, he was ready to fight his way to hell and back for the Confederacy. The local troop elected him captain.” I haven’t picked a first lieutenant yet. Just say the word and it’ll be you. “He tried so hard to get me to join him and the others, but I told him I was going west. He didn’t understand, but he never held it against me like most of the others did.”

  “But you didn’t go west, and you ended up on opposite sides.”

  “Yeah.” Trey braced himself for what he knew was coming. He’d already told Beth too much. He stole a glance at her, saw her piecing the story together.

  “You both had your reasons. You can’t blame yourself. But if you weren’t fighting together, then how…” Her eyes filled with tears when she saw the answer written on his face. “Oh, Trey, of all fiendish things. I’m so sorry. How did it happen?”

  No disgust. No recriminations. Floored by Beth’s acceptance, Trey told her. “I was with a small patrol on the way from the Wilderness battle toward Spotsylvania. It was late, and we were all exhausted. We’d been through two days of pure hell, fighting over rough country with the woods burning around us. I was taking a turn riding ahead. I rounded a corner and saw a group of men under some trees. If I’d heard them ahead of time – but I didn’t.”

  Beth put her arm around his shoulders. Trey left it there. His need for her touch overcame his pride. “What happened then?” she asked.

  “For a split second I didn’t know if they were our troops or enemy. With the trees behind them, I couldn’t see them clearly. One of them yelled and went for his rifle. I got to mine first. Turned out it was Justin… I don’t know why he was so slow. I don’t know why he didn’t know me.”

  “Trey, it was night. He likely couldn’t see you any better than you could see him. Neither of you had time to think.”

  “No, we didn’t. I fired, then someone shot at me and missed. When the rest of my patrol came up behind me, the others ran. There were twice as many of us. I got down to see if the man I’d shot was alive, and he was.” Beth’s arm tightened around him when Trey stopped to get control of his voice. “Justin knew me then. He didn’t say anything, but he knew me. In a few minutes, it was over. We couldn’t stay to bury him. We left him there at the side of the road.”

  Beth laid her head on Trey’s shoulder and held him close. “You were fighting a war. You defended yourself. You would have expected Justin to do exactly the same thing in your place.”

  Trey wondered at the sense of freedom that came with accepting her comfort. He’d never expected to feel like this again. Hurting, but whole. Completely alive. “I guess I would have, but I’ve never been able to think of it that way.”

  “I know.” Beth’s hand moved in a gentle circle over his back. “I think I understand now why you haven’t made friends your own age here. You couldn’t bear to. You’ve never told anyone about this, have you? Not even your family.”

  “No. It would only have hurt them.” When Beth looked up, Trey saw his grief reflected in her eyes. “It hurt you.”

  “Yes, it did.” Beth cupped his cheek in her palm. “Anything that hurts you will hurt me, because I care about you. Trey, why did you enlist instead of going west like you’d planned?”

  With years of tension dissolving, Trey lay back and rested his head in Beth’s lap. The world stopped outside the circle of her warmth. “When Mother died, Dad was lost. We all were. He decided he wanted to go home, but I couldn’t see much of a future for me in England, so I stayed behind. After Dad and Chelle sailed from New York, I went back to Washington. I’d left Cloud in a stable there on our way north. Fort Sumter was shelled while I was there. All the rhetoric and recruiting…” He paused, letting Beth’s nearness soften the memories. “I really believed it was going to come down to numbers. I got the idea that the best thing I could do was to join up and help end the war as soon as possible, before it reached home. An eighteen-year-old’s impulse.”

  Beth’s fingers threaded into Trey’s hair, stroking over his temple. “An impulse? Who knows? Maddy told me once that she believes in fate. Perhaps she was right.”

  Trey closed his eyes, savoring Beth’s touch. “Maybe. I suppose Nate had a lot to do with it. I thought I had something to prove.” He reached for her hand. “Mother believed in the Confederacy with all her heart. She hoped it wouldn’t come to war, but she thought the break had to come, and she thought it should. Still, when I told her I planned to go west she said she was proud of me. If she knew what I ended up doing–”

  “She’d still be proud.”

  Lying there with the sound of the river in the background, Trey sensed his mother and Justin near, listening, understanding.

  Cher, you survived. You did what you had to do. What your father’s son had to do.

  Trey, you’ll have to live for both of us. No regrets. Not between you and me.

  “She probably would. She was that kind of a woman. And so are you.”

  Trey got to his feet, dizzy with the shift that had come over him. Even the familiar landscape looked different somehow. He couldn’t find words to say what he felt, but Beth seemed to understand. She took his hand, squeezed it gently. One of the rare women who didn’t always need words.

  How was he ever going to let her go?

  CHAPTER 17

  Beth and Holly sat at the table, sewing, making the most of the afternoon light streaming through the window. Thankfully, Holly’s green dress was finished except for the hem. Beth didn’t know how she was going to get her own dress finished in time for the dance, even with Holly’s help. The concert was turning out to be more of an undertaking than she’d expected.

  Beth had gotten up amateur entertainments before, but not with such a cast on her hands. She wasn’t sure which was the bigger problem – the lack of performers with talent, or the attitudes of the performers she had.

  Two or three boys had put their names on Reverend Baxter’s list for no other reason than to hang around the rehearsals and tease the older school girls, who were tryin
g to practice the witches’ dialogue at the beginning of scene four in Macbeth. None of the girls could remember their lines, and the first witch kept looking over the edge of her script to make eyes at one of the boys while saying Round about the cauldron go; in the poison’d entrails throw, which did nothing to enhance the desired eerie effect. Beth could have made them all behave by threatening to tell their parents what was going on, but if she started alienating people she’d have no cast at all.

  She never got more than half of the younger children at a rehearsal, and Beth found herself on the bad side of Miss Jakeman, the teacher, who didn’t believe in concerts and was annoyed because her students were being distracted from their schoolwork. After the second rehearsal, Beth had sounded off to Trey in the barn.

  He hung up the bridle he’d been cleaning and shrugged. “Tell the boys to get lost.”

  “But then the girls would quit, too.”

  “So? I couldn’t care less about the concert, but I do care that you’re upsetting yourself over it. If the girls quit, call the damn thing off and forget it. It’s not worth worrying over.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the sympathy. I would call it off if it weren’t for Holly. Have you ever heard her sing, Trey?”

  “No. Like I said before, I didn’t know she existed until Ben mentioned her.”

  “Well, she has talent. Real talent, I think. I’d like to tell her so, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I just don’t know if it would be fair of me to encourage her. I’m no expert, and it would be such a struggle for her to do anything about it.”

  Beth sat on the grain barrel with her shoulders slumped and her back against the wall of the barn.

  Trey grasped her hands and lifted her to her feet. “How old were you when someone told you that you had talent?”

  It was hard to remember. As a child, Beth had loved to draw, without caring what anyone thought of the result. “About Holly’s age, I guess, when I started taking lessons.”

  Trey took Beth’s chin in his hand and touched his lips to hers. “Do you think you’d have worked as hard if no one had told you?”

  “How do you expect me to think when you’re doing that? I suppose not, but that was different. I could afford lessons and–”

  “And Holly will find a way if that’s what she wants. I think she’s as stubborn as you are. Tell her. And don’t worry so much over the concert. You don’t have to. You’re not the minister’s wife.”

  Beth understood now why that position was still vacant, even though Reverend Baxter was an attractive man. Still, it went against her nature to give up. If the whole thing failed and she and the cast ended up looking foolish, who would care? She reminded herself of that at least three times a day as the concert date got closer. Now it was only two weeks away.

  She knew one person would care. Beth looked at Holly, intent on her hemming. Trey was right. The girl deserved to know she had talent.

  “Holly, what do you think you’d like to be when you’re older?”

  Holly hesitated. Beth doubted if anyone had ever asked her that before. “I don’t know… when I was small, I used to think I wanted to be a singer.”

  Beth unfolded her pattern pieces and started laying them out on the blue fabric. “But not anymore?”

  Holly kept her eyes on her sewing. “I don’t know. It would be a lot of work, and–”

  “And you’re not sure you have the talent,” Beth finished for her. “Holly, I’m no expert, but I’ve heard a lot of good professional singers, and I think you’ve got quite a voice for someone your age. You’ll never know unless you try.”

  “I’ve thought about it,” Holly admitted. “About finding a job when I finish school and getting some training. Maybe someday.”

  “I might be able to help.” Beth formed a plan as she spoke. “I’ve got a few friends in Philadelphia with young families. In a couple of years, if you were willing to work as a nanny, I could put you in touch with some of them.”

  Holly’s eyes lit up.

  Beth hoped again that she wasn’t setting the girl up for disappointment. “Keep it in mind. Now where is this sleeve supposed to go?”

  * * *

  The fourth concert rehearsal took place the next evening. After supper, Beth glanced wistfully around the cabin before following Trey outside. She’d much rather spend the evening curled up with him on his bunk, talking or reading to each other. Since he’d told her about Justin, Trey talked to her more easily, and his kisses – forget next spring. Beth knew she’d have to decide long before then whether to stay or leave, for both their sakes.

  Graham had sent a copy of Pickwick Papers along with Beth’s other books. Dickens’ first novel had always been her favorite. She and Trey had been reading it to each other and laughing over it in the evenings lately. Seeing it on the bunk now gave Beth an idea. She grabbed the book and hurried out to the wagon.

  Trey was going to town with her to get supplies and spend the evening with John and Hannah. He helped Beth up to the seat beside him. “You’re looking pleased with yourself.”

  Beth held up her Pickwick. “I am pleased with myself. I think I’ve come up with a way to deal with those boys, and I think the girls will help me.”

  “Good. What’s the idea?”

  “The skating scene from Pickwick.”

  “What about it? Don’t think you can drag me into this scheme of yours, just because I can imitate Dad as Sam Weller.”

  Beth flashed Trey a teasing grin. “You’ll see on the night of the concert.”

  For once, most of the younger performers showed up to rehearse. Beth got their pieces out of the way first. She’d asked the older performers to come later. A few minutes after the older girls began practicing their Macbeth scene, the usual three boys filed into a front pew. The flirting and giggling began.

  Beth laid her script on the pulpit, picked up her Pickwick and gathered the girls together. “Girls, I think you’re finding Macbeth too serious. Perhaps you’d rather do a comic scene. Have any of you read Pickwick Papers?”

  One of the girls nodded. “Good.” Beth opened her book to the skating scene. “Tell me what you think of this.”

  Beth put her acting experience to good use as she read through the scene. The girls all laughed. When she finished, one of them took the book to look over the lines. “How could we do this? It wouldn’t work with us playing the men’s parts.”

  That wasn’t Beth’s intention, but she played along. “Why not? Having girls play the men’s parts might just make it funnier. Let’s try it. Jen, you read Mr. Winkle. Carrie, you try Mr. Weller. Becky can be Bob Sawyer, and Martha, you take Mr. Pickwick. I’ll read everyone else for now.”

  The girls were in the mood to show off for the boys, so they agreed. The scene was pure physical comedy, centered on a very awkward first-time skater creating havoc at a skating party. As Beth expected, the girls weren’t sure what to do with it. The boys laughed and made comments until Carrie got annoyed. “It’s too bad you three don’t have the nerve to get up here and do this.”

  That caused a brief whispered conference. When it ended, Jack Barron, the boy Carrie had been making eyes at, stood up. “Who says we don’t?”

  His friends were right behind him. They joined the group and passed the book around to read the main parts, with the girls filling in as needed.

  “We can do this as well as you girls can do your witch scene,” Jack declared when they were finished.

  “We’ll see about that,” Carrie retorted. “You’d better find people for the other parts in this before you start bragging.”

  Beth handed the book to Jack. “I’ll write out scripts for the next practice. For tonight, use this. You’re going to have to get moving. Time is getting short.”

  To her carefully concealed delight, the girls retreated to the other end of the church and began practicing their Macbeth scene seriously for a change, while the boys stayed up front and worked at the Pickwick sc
ene with equal determination.

  When Trey came by to pick Beth up, he found her tired but exultant. “How did it go tonight?”

  Beth held up her Pickwick with a smug flourish. “My idea worked. We’re going to have a concert, O ye of little faith.”

  Trey shook his head. “Stubborn women. They’re my fate, I guess.”

  Beth sidled closer and slipped her arm around him as they left town. The night had grown chilly enough for her to relish his warmth. A full moon rose over her right shoulder, turning the road and the open land around it into an enchantment of silver and shadow. “Trey, I’m very glad I’m not the minister’s wife.”

  CHAPTER 18

  With some careful nudging on his part, Nathan and Lena had fallen into the habit of having breakfast together at the boarding house most mornings. He hadn’t given her much choice. After he let the usual sobered-up, hung-over drunks out of jail, he would walk over to Neil’s. Lena would be waiting for him, wearing a dress like most of the women in town wore. He suspected that she’d dressed that way the first time to get a reaction from him. He didn’t oblige her. Mrs. Grant never looked exactly comfortable having Lena in her boarding house and Lena didn’t look comfortable there herself, but then she never really seemed comfortable around Nathan.

  This morning as he walked to meet her, Nathan passed a poster advertising the spring dance. It put him in mind of the dances and parties at home. He’d never been much of a dancer and he’d been even less of one since the battle for Richmond, when a shell exploded next to him, shooting fragments into his left leg. He’d been lucky not to lose his leg; damned lucky to survive at all.

  Lena would have been sixteen then. Hard to believe she was only twenty-one now. Nathan had asked Neil her age. She would never have told him herself.

  When he got to Neil’s place, Nathan found Lena waiting outside on the bench, wearing a blue dress he hadn’t seen before. It looked like something Beth McShannon would wear. On her it would have looked cool and graceful, but on Lena it was bright and vivid. She’d pinned her hair up, but it didn’t make her look prim. Nathan didn’t think anything she could do would make her look that way.