"They seem very comfortable together."
"You can't be thinking she's in love with Laveau?"
"I have no idea what her feelings are for anybody," Felicity said, wishing fervently she'd never opened her mouth. "Their familiarity implies she considers Laveau a friend."
"I've known Vivian since she was a child," Holt said. "She could never be a friend to a man like Laveau."
Felicity was relieved when they finally reached the house.
"It looks like Papa is still up," she said, seeing a light through the window. "I wonder what he's doing in the parlor. He never sits in there."
"Maybe he's trying to avoid old associations," Holt said. "There were certain times, places, or situations that always made my father reach for a bottle."
"Since we've been in Galveston, he's rarely had much to drink at home, so I never thought about it like that," she said as she let herself into the house. "I guess I blamed his drinking on going to bars and the company he kept."
"It's much more enjoyable to drink with people who aren't condemning," Holt said, closing the door behind them. "If your companions are drinking, too, then you can rationalize that it must be all right."
Felicity stepped into the parlor and came to an immediate halt. Mrs. Bennett was sitting on the sofa next to her father, patting his hand and talking softly to him. She looked up and smiled when she heard Felicity and Holt enter the room. "Did you have a good time?"
"What's wrong with Papa?" Felicity asked, going straight to her father.
"Nothing's wrong with him," Mrs. Bennett said, continuing to pat her father's hand. "He's just a little tired." She gave his hand a final pat and got to her feet. "Now that you're here, I'll be going home."
"Thank you for sitting with him," Felicity said mechanically. She was looking at her father, who seemed dazed and disoriented. She'd seen him look like this many times before, but it was always after he'd had too much to drink. She didn't know what it meant when he hadn't had anything at all.
"Has he been like that long?" Holt asked Mrs. Bennett in a soft voice.
"Only just the last little while. I think he's exhausted. Take care of them both," she said to Holt. "They'll need you."
"Stay a bit," Holt said. "I'll walk you home in a minute."
"Are you tired?" Felicity asked her father. He seemed to be more alert.
"A little. I'm not as young as I used to be."
Felicity figured fifty-three wasn't all that old. Besides, he hadn't looked like this yesterday. She noticed he had to keep his hands clenched or they shook uncontrollably.
"You shouldn't have waited up for us," Felicity said. "You know you're always in bed by now."
"I wanted to know if you enjoyed the party," he said, looking a little more like himself. "It isn't often my favorite daughter gets invited to dinner at the home of the richest man in Galveston."
"I only got invited because of Holt," she said.
"And I only got invited because of Vivian," Holt said.
"It doesn't matter why you got invited. You did."
Her father looked more animated, but Felicity continued to examine him closely. She was sure he didn't want her to know how much he was suffering.
"Is the house as elegant as everybody says? People haven't stopped talking about it since they laid the foundation."
"It's beautiful," Felicity said.
Her father attempted to get up but failed. He waved away her offer to help him but accepted Holt's. "I'm too fat for a little thing like you," he told her. "I'd pull you over on top of me."
Felicity wasn't used to her father spurning her help for Holt's. She felt ousted from her position, a foolish and unworthy response she immediately tried to repress.
"You've got to be tired, too," she said to Holt. "I can help Papa."
"Let it be, child," her father said. "No man wants to be put to bed by his own daughter."
She wanted to remind him she'd put him to bed before, but she said nothing as he walked out of the parlor leaning on Holt. She turned to Mrs. Bennett. "I've been taking care of him since Mother died."
"He feels guilty about depending on you so much."
"But I want him to depend on me."
"He worries that he's dominated your emotions so much, you don't have room for a husband and family."
"He can't know that."
"It's how he feels."
"But he doesn't mind letting Holt help him."
"There are some things a man takes better from another man. Help is one of them."
"But to take it from a stranger rather than his own daughter..."
"He doesn't consider Holt a stranger. And neither do you."
Felicity felt heat warm her skin. "He's not family."
"I think your father is beginning to see him as the son he never had."
Felicity felt as if someone had physically hit her.
"That hurts, doesn't it?" Mrs. Bennett asked.
Felicity nodded.
"Don't let it. Your father wouldn't trade you for all the sons in the world. He just wanted a son who could be a doctor with him. Now he feels he has both."
That didn't make Felicity feel any better.
"Don't you like Holt?" Mrs. Bennett asked.
"I guess so."
"That's a strange reaction for a young woman to have toward a handsome young man."
"Holt's not your ordinary young man."
"That's all the more reason why your reaction is unusual. I'd have thought you'd have welcomed his attentions."
"Do you call forcing his way into our home and telling us what to do attentions?"
"He's done a great deal more. Besides, he's taken you to several very nice parties."
"Only because he wants to see an old girlfriend and doesn't want to go alone."
"I never knew any man to ask a woman to go out with him if he didn't want to be with her. Men aren't subtle about things like that."
"I did it only because he practically forced me."
"And maybe to protect him?"
Felicity decided Mrs. Bennett had to be a witch. She knew too much.
"Men are such fools when it comes to a beautiful woman," Felicity commented.
"Do you think Holt is a fool?"
"Not about other things. But he's known Vivian since she was a child. He feels protective of her. Worse still, he thinks he's the only man who can love her for herself rather than her beauty."
"And you're afraid he can't see that she doesn't love him."
"I don't know. At times I get the feeling he thinks he's obligated to marry her regardless of how either one of them feels about the other."
"Have you asked him about it?"
"I couldn't ask him anything like that."
"Then you'll never know the truth."
Felicity fidgeted under Mrs. Bennett's penetrating gaze.
"Has he ever been reluctant to ask you questions about yourself or your father?"
"No."
"Has he thought less of either of you as a result of your answers?"
Holt had certainly condemned her father's seeing patients when he'd been drinking and her for helping him conceal his problem, but he was helping her father now, and his relationship with her was more comfortable than it had ever been.
"I guess not," she replied.
"Then I doubt he'd be upset if you asked him a few penetrating questions, or if you happened to disagree with him."
Felicity was willing to give Holt credit for being fair-minded, but she wasn't ready to ask him personal questions. Mrs. Bennett took Felicity's hands in her own. "Trust him. I think you'll find him worthy of your confidence. And don't worry about your father. He's going to be all right."
"I want to help him, but I don't know how."
"Just keep letting him know you love him."
"He already knows that."
"Sometime it's necessary to hear the words. Men aren't very different from women when it comes to that. Now I hear Holt coming back. Put your
dependence in him. And if I can do anything to help, let me know."
"You've done so much already. I don't know how to thank you."
"Don't. I was fed up with being a lonely old widow. It's fun to feel useful again. Now, be really nice to that young man. You might be surprised at what will happen."
Felicity reminded herself that Mrs. Bennett didn't know of the angry words that had passed between her and Holt. Her attitude toward him had changed a lot, but he'd been too preoccupied with Vivian to think of her. She didn't want to admit that caused her a pang of jealousy.
"Has Mrs. Bennett left?" Holt asked when he entered the front hall.
"Yes. How's my father?"
"I left him sitting up in bed. I'm going to give him a dose of laudanum."
"I don't want you giving him drugs."
"I'll only give him a small dose, and then only for a couple of nights to get him through the worst of the withdrawal symptoms."
She followed him into her father's office where he kept his medicines. "What are the symptoms? How bad will they be?"
"That depends on how much he's used to drinking, how long he's been drinking, and how his body reacts to being deprived of alcohol."
Felicity experienced a sinking feeling. "He started drinking heavily after my mother died. That was thirteen years ago, but it got really bad when we were at Andersonville. I thought it was better after we returned to Galveston, but I guess Papa was just better at hiding it. What symptoms is he showing?"
"His hands are shaky. I doubt he could hold a cup of coffee. He looks tired, but he won't sleep well."
"Anything else I should watch for?"
"His eyelids might flutter and his tongue quiver, but that's not too serious. The symptoms ought to disappear in a day or two. He may also crave sweets."
"This will be hard for him, won't it?"
"No harder than it'll be on you."
"Why do you say that?"
"I've noticed that any kind of suffering upsets you."
"Isn't that true of all doctors?" she asked. "And the reason they become doctors?"
"No. To some it's the science that attracts them. To others it's just a way to make a living. Making people well is what they're supposed to do, so they do it."
"How do you feel about it?"
"When I discovered I would make a lousy farmer, I decided to be a doctor. I knew I was partly motivated by guilt over my father, but I really wanted to be a family doctor. The horrors of the war changed all that. I became a good surgeon by practicing on people who had no hope without my limited skills. By the war's end I hated what I was doing. Since I've started working with your father, I've discovered there's another way to practice medicine. Being able to help people without cutting off limbs is like being given a whole new way of seeing medicine. I'm learning so much I never knew, things I wanted to learn. I may decide to stay until he's well. Maybe by then I'll know how I feel about making people well."
"Papa became a doctor to save Mama."
"It's become his reason for living now," Holt said. "He has a wonderful ability to inspire confidence in his patients. That's why it's essential that he never do anything to compromise his ability."
"Well, he's doing everything he can now," Felicity said. "How much laudanum should I give him?"
"I'll give it to him. You need your sleep."
"You don't think I'm going to bed while my father is suffering like this, do you?"
"You can't stay up all the time. We'll take shifts."
That surprised her. "You don't need to do that."
"I'm the one who forced this on him. Besides, I wouldn't leave you to go through it all alone. You don't know what to expect. I do."
"Thanks, but just tell me what to look for and what to do about it. I won't be able to go to any parties for a while."
"I'm not going either."
"What about your invitations?"
"I'm not leaving your father until I'm sure he's past the worst of the withdrawal period. I intend to help, so give in gracefully."
Felicity didn't know what to say. It had never occurred to her that Holt would give up a chance to be with Vivian so he could sit with her father.
"I'll go first," Holt said. "I can sleep late."
"You have to see patients all day. And you need your breakfast."
"We'll work something out," Holt said. "Now off to bed. And don't worry." With that he put his hand under her chin and kissed her lightly on the lips. "I intend to take very good care of Dr. Moore because I like his daughter a great deal."
Felicity stood rooted to the floor as Holt turned and left her. That kiss wasn't at all like the first time he kissed her. There was no challenge, no threat, no intimidation. Just a nice, sweet kiss from a man who liked her.
But she wished it had been more. Or less. She didn't believe for one minute, as Mrs. Bennett did, that Holt was romantically interested in her. It was her feelings that caused her to wonder.
Was she falling in love with him?
She didn't think so. It was hard to figure out just what she did feel about Holt when she was so busy worrying that Vivian would turn her back on him and break his heart again. She wanted to reach out and put her arms around him, partly to protect him from Vivian, partly to assure him that some woman in the world would love him. Of one thing she was certain. Even if Vivian did love Holt, she was far too self-centered to be the kind of wife he deserved.
She realized she was still standing in the hall, exactly where Holt left her. She quickly blew out the lights and picked up the lantern Holt had left for her.
As she climbed the stairs, she told herself Holt's future wasn't any of her business. And even if his decisions were terribly wrong, she couldn't do anything but watch.
Holt woke out of a dead sleep to the muffled sound of gunfire and the screams of men and horses. He couldn't understand. The troop was spending the day sleeping at a farm in one of the many small, unmapped valleys in the Shenandoah Valley. The Union Army didn't know where they were, and their raid wasn't scheduled until the next day. Why should it sound as if they were in the middle of a battle?
Having grown up in Vermont and being unused to the hot summer weather in Virginia, he'd found himself a quiet corner in the cool, dark recesses of the root cellar under the outbuildings. It took several moments before he could remember his surroundings, find the ladder, and climb up to the main floor of the building. There had to be a door to the outside, but he didn't know where it was and didn't want to take the time to find it. By the time he found his way out of the cellar, the noise had ceased. When he opened the door, he expected to find it was nothing but a bad dream.
What he found was a nightmare.
A pall of acrid-smelling gun smoke hung in the air, closing out the sunlight, turning midday into dusk. Beneath that somber blanket the dead and dying, Confederate and Union soldiers alike, lay scattered about the farm like so many broken and discarded dolls.
As suddenly as it had fallen silent, the tableau came to life. The moans and cries of the men mingled with the screams of wounded horses. Like a mindless drunk, Holt staggered from the building, then raced forward. He slowed as he reached the first man. Ed Purdy. A grinning imp from Tennessee who loved a joke more than whiskey. Phillip Wilson. A farmer from Georgia with a wife and two kids back home. Alan Burton. The only son of an old Virginia family. All killed where they lay, sleeping in the shade of a maple tree. A Union soldier, his face made unrecognizable by the impact of a rifle bullet.
"What happened?" he asked Cade Wheeler, his commander and the first man he saw on his feet and unhurt.
"We were attacked by a Union cavalry unit." Cade looked down at another fallen comrade, a young man from Louisiana. "Most of them died in their sleep." He turned his gaze back to Holt, his blue eyes blazing with a fury that chilled Holt to the marrow of his bones. "Someone betrayed us. One of us is a traitor."
"But who?"
"I don't know, but whoever it was must die." Cade gazed once mo
re at the bodies of his fallen men. "He must die!"
He must die! He must die!
The phrase echoed in Holt's head, growing louder with each repetition, until he felt he would go insane. He had to go to the men, help everyone with a chance to live, but he couldn't think, couldn't act, with that phrase banging against his skull like the clapper of a steeple bell.
He must die! He must die!
Holt woke with a start to find Felicity gently shaking him.
"Who must die?" she asked.
Chapter Seventeen
The look of concern on Felicity's face made Holt feel guilty, doubly so because he'd fallen asleep when he should have been watching her father. "It was just a bad dream," he said. "It's what I get for falling asleep." He glanced toward Felicity's father, but the doctor was sleeping peacefully.
"You were dreaming about Laveau, weren't you?"
He nodded.
"You know you can't do anything about him, don't you? The Union Army controls Texas."
"He's not in the army anymore."
"They won't care about that. They won't let anybody hurt one of their own."
Holt didn't explain that no one ever really trusted a traitor or why the nature of Laveau's crime made it impossible for the survivors to forget. If Felicity thought he was going to take revenge against Laveau, she would worry.
"Your father has had a surprisingly quiet night," he said, changing the subject. "He grew restless several times, but he didn't wake up."
"Does that mean he's over the worst?"
"We'll have to wait and see. Everybody reacts differently."
"You'd better go to bed," she said. "You've got a busy day ahead of you."
"What time is it?" It was still dark outside.
"Four o'clock."
"You didn't sleep very long."
"You're the one who's seeing patients. It's more important that you're rested."
"I've had a head start," he said, feeling guilty again for falling asleep.
"I'll wake you at nine. That'll give you time to dress and have breakfast before your first appointment."
"If anything happens--"
"I'll call you. Now go to bed."
He rose to his feet. "Your father is very fortunate to have such a devoted daughter." He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "You'll make some lucky man a much better wife than he deserves."
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