The Officer and the Traveler

by Rose Gordon

  Hot scorching flames crept up her neck and licked her face.

  He poked out his bottom lip. “How could I blame you? Grayson was so very similar to his mother at that age, I couldn’t fault you there.”

  “At that age?” she burst out.

  Pa rubbed his hands over his wrinkled face and sighed. “You should probably sit down.”

  She took a careful seat on the edge of the bed, trying her best not to disturb Gray as he snored quietly.

  When she was still, her father began to speak again. “I met Rebecca when she was sixteen and I was eighteen. There was something about her that drew me to her. I imagine it was the same thing that drew you to her son.” A wistful smile touched his lips. “We’d met the summer before I left for West Point. I loved her dearly, but I couldn’t marry her. Not yet. If I did; I couldn’t attend West Point and become an officer. It was just that simple. I didn’t have the means to support her. We each promised that we’d wait.”

  “But she didn’t,” Michaela guessed at the sad expression that came over her father’s face.

  “She married an investor,” he said by way of answer. He frowned. “But not a very good one.” He shook his head. “By the time he died eight years later, I’d already married your mother and Virginia and Mary had been born. I wasn’t able to help her clear the bad debt her husband had left her and one of the men who’d been owed money offered to settle her debts if she’d take a two year contract in his brothel.” He let out a deep, harsh breath. “I hated the way I couldn’t help her. But I had a family, too, and didn’t make near the amount she needed.” He let out a deep exhale. “Her two year contract turned into a lifetime. Not that I was around for most of it. After your mother had found the first letter, the one asking for help to pay off Rebecca’s husband’s debts, she’d demanded I sever contact, which I did. Your mother was my wife, after all. She didn’t deserve the shame that might come if someone were to find out. Even if we hadn’t done anything wrong.”

  A thousand thoughts raced through Michaela’s mind. Then how did the two of them find each other again? When had he quit caring about Mother’s feelings and started an affair with his first love?

  “While I was at Fort Edgecomb, I got word that your mother had been receiving gentleman callers at her residence during my absence.” The way his face contorted as he said those words told her exactly what types of “gentleman callers” these were. “When I confronted her, she informed me that she didn’t love me and had been conducting several affairs. No longer feeling that I was bound by the same chains of honor and duty as before, I paid a man to track down Rebecca.”

  He steepled his hands in front of his face. “I don’t know why I did it. Perhaps because I was hurt and felt betrayed. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “When I found out where she was, I put in for a transfer to Fort McHenry and just for good measure, made sure your mother would be coming, too. When we arrived, I went to see Rebecca.” His lips thinned and he narrowed his eyes on Michaela. “Not for that reason. Never for that reason. We only talked.” He sagged back in his chair. “I was surprised when she mentioned she’d had a son since she’d thought she was barren after eight years of marriage with no children. I wasn’t surprised, however, that because of that she was still under contract with that man. Brothel owners are the worst sort of cheat. I asked if I could buy out her contract so she could start over. She wouldn’t let me though. She informed me that Mr. Dixon, the owner, was unreasonable and I’d never be able to afford it. She was right. The price he quoted me was more than I’d earn in ten years. But the price for Grayson wasn’t.”

  “The price for Gray?” she echoed in shock.

  “Apparently, Mr. Dixon, didn’t think it was enough to heap charges on his mother’s tab for conceiving him, but had created one for Grayson, too.” He shuddered. “I cannot begin to imagine what vile acts he might have been forced into to work it off.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “You’re not to tell him about that, please. He despises me enough already.”

  “You think he’d despise you even more for saving him from an unspeakable future?”

  “It’s called pride, Michaela. Even when we’re wrong, it’s still there.”

  “So that’s why he came to live at Fort McHenry, but why did he leave?”

  “He hated me.” He slowly scratched the stubble that had grown in under his chin since he’d shaved this morning. “He blamed me for his mother’s death and didn’t wish to live there anymore or have anything to do with me.”

  “She was coming there to see you?” Michaela croaked, though she supposed she already knew that since they were lovers and all.

  “Not exactly, but it’s what Grayson first assumed and what I allowed him to believe.” He paused. “It’s better that way.”

  “First assumed?”

  “She’d actually come to see him, but he doesn’t need to know that.” His voice turned to steel. “Ever. Michaela, do you understand me?”

  She nodded once.

  “She’d written me several times asking to see him and I’d brushed her off, telling her it was better that she didn’t.” He closed his eyes for an extended blink. “She just couldn’t stay away any longer.” He sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have taken him to see her as she’d requested. I just thought—” his voice broke— “I didn’t think it’d be good for her to see him. I thought he might wish to go back to stay with her and he had such promise with the army.”

  Emotion that was already clogging Michaela’s throat seemed to choke her all the more. By his own admission, her father was responsible for Rebecca’s death. Not directly since it wasn’t him who she’d come to see, but she wouldn’t have come had Pa not denied her requests for his own reasons. Either way, she could now fully understand Gray’s bitterness toward him. “What happened that made him decide to go to West Point if he hated the military and all that had anything to do with you?”

  “I don’t think it was the military he hated so much, it was just me he hated.” A blank expression came over Pa’s face. “What other choice would he have had in this life if he hadn’t accepted the invitation?”

  They both knew the answer to that: none. Having only ever known the dangerous lifestyle of brothels, which he abhorred, and the military, the choice was likely very easy for him to make.

  “I’m assuming you arranged for him to go?”

  Pa nodded.

  “Does he at least know that?”

  Pa nodded again, chuckling. “Yes. It took a little prodding, but I got him to accept.” He cocked his head to the side. “I do believe the terms of our agreement were along the lines of he’d accept the position to go, but if he ever saw me again after he graduated, he’d rip me apart with his bare hands.” The edges of his lips twitched. “I guess he’s softened toward me because all he did was hit a rounders ball at me.”

  In spite of all the unsettling newfound knowledge she’d recently learned, Michaela laughed. “Perhaps you two will become closer once—” She closed her mouth with a snap, but the knowing gleam in her father’s eyes told her he knew exactly what she was about to suggest.

  “Then I just might get the namesake your mother denied me by having four daughters and no sons,” he said with a wink. Then, without giving her a chance to say anything else, he took to his feet and saw himself out of her room.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Michaela lay next to her husband, intertwining her fingers with his. Had he been awake, there was no way she’d have done something so bold. But since he was still sleeping…

  The afternoon had passed quickly enough. For Gray, that is. He’d been asleep for several hours, leaving her to her own devices, or to be more precise her conflicted thoughts. In her mind, indecision warred with curiosity, hope with despair, and resentment with understanding. She longed for someone to confide in. Someone who wouldn’t judge and could offer an untainted opinion: Allison. She was the only one here she could speak to about any of this. Neither Ella nor Aunt Lucille cou
ld ever know of the things she’d just heard, and for as much as she hated to even think the thought, Mrs. Ridgely couldn’t be trusted.

  An odd sense of coldness washed over her at the thought of Mrs. Ridgely’s name. It wasn’t that she’d actually believed the woman when she’d insinuated that she and Gray might be having an affair. Between everything she’d been learning about her husband since their wedding, she knew better than to believe for one second that he’d have actually been pursuing her, or anyone, as a lover. No, the sting was more at the way the woman had spoken so casually about it—as if everyone would believe it and she didn’t care one bit about sullying Gray’s name with her insinuation that he’d be carrying on an affair with her, his superior’s wife. Didn’t she realize how dangerous that was for Gray? It could—and did—lead to bodily harm and possible repercussions in his career.

  She sighed and snuggled up closer to Gray. He’d probably tell her to give him some space if he were awake. How unfortunate for him, he wasn’t. Therefore, she’d lie as close to him as she wanted.

  Knock, knock.

  Michaela sat straight up, her heart pounding. What was that? Commanding her hammering heart to be still, she took a deep breath and blinked to gain perspective on her whereabouts. She’d fallen asleep and now only a dim light of the setting sun filled their room.

  The knocking came again, a little louder this time.

  “Michaela? Gray?” came a muffled voice decidedly masculine.

  Michaela hadn’t spent enough time around Gray’s friends yet to know who was on the other side of the door. She bit her lip. Perhaps she shouldn’t open the door, then.

  “Michaela, it’s Jack,” the voice called, as if he’d read her thoughts.

  She relaxed. Now that he’d identified himself, she could place his voice. “Just a moment,” she called, rolling off the bed. She stumbled to the door.

  Jack and Wes were both standing outside. “The ladies are making supper next door, we thought we’d see if you needed any help with Gray,” Wes said.

  She swallowed and glanced at her sleeping husband. “He’s been sleeping five or six hours now.”

  They both walked inside and flinched when they saw his battered body on top of the bed.

  “We could use more water,” Michaela blurted. It was true, they did need water and she didn’t like the idea of going to the well alone, but she doubted they’d come by just to be told to go fetch water.

  “Broken ribs?” Wes asked, stepping closer to Gray’s body.

  “That’s what the medic thinks.”

  Wes reached forward and placed two fingers where Gray’s ribs were pushing up. “He’d probably recover better without his boots and trousers on. He’d be able to breathe better and move easier without the tight constraints of his waistband directly below his broken rib.”

  Despite the heat crawling up her face, Michaela said, “But I’ve already unfastened them, is that not good enough?” Her father and the medic had almost acted scandalized that she had taken the initiative to do that already when they’d come by.

  “It probably has helped him some, yes, but if you look, a large knot has formed just under the top of his trousers.” He shrugged. “If it were me, I’d want them off. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

  She nodded once. “I can see to that.”

  “No need to do it alone. Jack will help you,” Wes said, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “I’ll go get your water.” He picked up the two empty water pails Gray had stacked in the corner and left the room, leaving her and Jack alone to tend to Gray.

  “You think this is unnecessary?” she ventured.

  “No, Wes is right, he needs to be free to move around without the fabric digging into his tender flesh.” He swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was more even. “My father was very sick before he passed, and as you know Ella was very sick for a while and required care.” He shrugged, then flashed her a smile that didn’t quite reach his brown eyes before reaching to untie Gray’s boots. “I never imagined I’d be tending Gray on his sickbed.”

  Following his lead, she went about untying and removing her husband’s other boot, then his stocking. Not daring to chance a glance at Jack and let him see the blush on her face, she kept her head lowered and reached for the already unfastened top of his trousers, waiting for Jack to tell her of whatever plan he’d formulated for them to get Gray’s trousers off without waking or hurting him.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve been in your place. No judgment here.”

  Her head shot up and she studied his face. “You really love her, don’t you?”

  “More than I ever imagined was possible.”

  “I’m glad. For both of you.”

  He grinned. “Gray’ll come around. Just give him time.”

  She hoped he was right because sometime this afternoon all the ice she’d encased her heart with had begun to melt and it would only be a matter of time before she’d be vulnerable to him once again.

  “I’ll lift him around his waist and you work as quickly as you can.”

  Michaela slid Gray’s trousers down as mechanically as she could. It wouldn’t do to allow herself to wince or grasp as she uncovered even more bruises on his legs. “It’s a wonder he didn’t bleed to death with all the broken veins,” she said, grimacing at the sharp edge in her voice. Since Jack still had Gray elevated, she quickly reached for the edge of their wedding quilt and threw it back so she’d be able to cover him with it while he rested.

  “He’ll be all right,” Jack assured her, lowering Gray back to the bed. He reached for the blanket and pulled it over him. “He’s one of the strongest and most resilient men I’ve met. Just give him a day or two and he’ll be awake and annoying you so much you’ll want to give him more laudanum just to get a moment of peace.”

  Michaela doubted she’d do that—

  “Jack?”

  Gray’s raspy voice chilled her to the bone.

  “Yes?” Jack said, leaning down toward Gray.

  Gray blinked his swollen eyes a few times. “Can you do me a favor?” His voice barely more than a ragged, broken whisper.

  Though she shouldn’t even think about it, she did wonder why Gray was asking for Jack when he knew she was standing right there beside him.

  Jack gave her a quick glance. “What do you need?”

  If she wasn’t mistaken, a hint of laughter sparkled in his half-closed eyes. He crooked his finger at Jack, and Jack lowered his head closer to hear what Gray would say. “Yes?”

  “I need to piss.”

  ***

  The expression on Jack’s face was worth whatever discomfort might ensue at actually having to accept his help with the task.

  “That’s what your wife is for,” Jack said through clenched teeth.

  Gray offered him a hint of a smile. “A lady shouldn’t be subjected to such a coarse task.”

  “No, only me,” Jack mumbled. He pursed his lips. “Is this your way of getting back at me for putting a little castor oil in your coffee last winter?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Michaela laughed at Gray’s unapologetic words and his heart skipped a beat. She might have had misguided affections for him when they’d first met, but as he’d predicted, she’d make him a good wife.

  He allowed Jack to help him, though he hated every blasted second. However, it was better than either of the alternatives, he supposed.

  When he was a bit more comfortable, he allowed Jack and Michaela to help him sit. “Thank you.”

  “Wes just went to get some water, is there anything else you need?” Michaela asked.

  “No.”

  “You’re not hungry?”

  His jaw hurt just thinking about chewing. “No. Just tired.”

  She ran her fingers over her forehead taking the hair that had fallen into her eyes with them and smoothing it back behind her ear. “Do you want me to get you some cool cloths to put where you hurt most?”

  Gray shook his head. “I’ll be
all right.” The unconvinced look on her face made him want to smile.

  Wes came back just then, carrying two pails of water. “Looks like you’re ready to go back to work tomorrow.”

  Gray closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head back. That was the last thing he wanted to think about. “I was given a three-day stay and I plan to use every one of them.”

  “Remember, Gray, separation makes the heart grow fonder,” Jack whispered.

  Wes grinned and slapped Jack on the shoulder. “We should probably go and give them some quiet time—they’ve only been married two days, remember.” His expression turned more serious, something that was unusual for Wes. “If he needs anything, just come ask.”

  Michaela agreed then saw his friends out the door. “The three of you share many restrictive reminiscences.”

  “Restrictive reminiscences?” he repeated slowly.

  She smiled at the way he was careful to say the difficult phrase and picked up one of the water pails Wes had placed on the table. “Reminiscences that are restricted to only the three of you knowing the details to. Restrictive reminiscences.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No. I wouldn’t say it bothers me.” She bit her lip and looked at the full water pail, then at the pitcher, a slight frown creasing her brow. After a second, she shrugged, grabbed a cup and dipped it straight into the brimming water pail, filling the cup. She set the cup down on the table and poured in a dose of laudanum, then handed him the cup and sat down in the rickety wooden chair closest to the bed.

  He took a slow drink. The cool water felt good in his dry mouth even if the taste of laudanum was bitter on his tongue. “It just makes you feel like you don’t know where you fit in?”

  Her surprised look told him he’d guessed correctly. For a reason he couldn’t place, the knowledge that’d he’d guessed right didn’t make him as pleased with himself as he would have been otherwise; overshadowed rather by a strange feeling at realizing his wife didn’t feel like she fit in here.

  “I’ve known Wes and Jack a long time. They know things about me, I wouldn’t want anyone else to know and I imagine given enough time, the same will develop between the two of us.” He offered her the best reassuring smile he could with his busted lips. “Besides, some of the things the three of us find comical really aren’t.”