Daniel took Chandler hunting with him, and her son stood tall when they returned with two rabbits that he’d shot. “I told you I could take care of ya, Ma.”
“Yes, I see that.” She held back her laughter, enjoying the moment with Daniel as he smiled behind Chandler’s back at the boy’s pride.
Now that they had plenty of meat, supper was the time Rosemarie enjoyed the most. With chores completed, Daniel and the children would wash up, then they all hurried to the table, hankering for food.
• • •
The early spring sun dipped behind the barn, casting the yard and small house in dusky shadows. It had been another long day, but Rosemarie was happy with her accomplishments. Each day she grew stronger, and as thankful as she was for her health, the niggling thought in the back of her mind that Daniel would soon leave them dampened her spirits.
“Can I help you finish up?” Daniel stood at her back, watching her scoop stew into a bowl. His nearness, and the smell of the soap he’d used to wash up, wafted over her. Her stomach did funny little jiggles every time he came near.
“If you want to pour milk for the children that would help.” She took a deep breath as he moved away. Rosemarie chided herself. This was crazy, she was an older, widowed mother of three. There was no place in her life for these feelings. Lt. McCoy had merely helped them over a rough spot.
Since when is he Lt. McCoy? Since I know he’s leaving. Very soon.
After placing the large bowl of stew in the center of the table, Rosemarie returned with the loaf of fresh baked bread and butter from the cold pantry. Daniel poured the milk for the children and cold water from the pump for both adults.
As they all settled in, hands joined, heads bowed, they thanked the Lord for their food. Rosemarie let her gaze roam over the group. Her children’s faces were flushed red from their playtime in the cold air, and they ate with enthusiasm. Daniel discussed the fine art of whittling with Chandler, while Amelia hung on to his every word. Jace, his eyes heavy with fatigue, spooned the stew into his mouth.
Don’t get used to this. Regardless of how he makes you feel, remember, this is all temporary. Daniel doesn’t belong here.
• • •
Daniel explained whittling to Chandler, all the while aware of Rosemarie across the table from him. Each time he’d glanced in her direction, she would shift her eyes, a slight flush on her cheeks. Had her feelings also grown over the past week?
Once recovered from the worst of her infection, the dark circles under her eyes disappeared and the sunken look to her cheeks filled out. She was truly a beautiful woman, even after years of hard work and bearing three children. Her full breasts, hidden under her work dresses and aprons, would fill his hands nicely. Earlier, as he watched her walk from the house to the barn, even with her slight limp, her hips swayed enticingly enough to cause him to re-adjust his trousers.
Her soft voice as she read to her children at bedtime each night brought a sense of happiness and security he’d had as a child when his stepmother did the same with him and Stephen. His gut twisted when he remembered the present time and place. Nothing had changed.
They’d hidden the horse he’d stolen from the soldiers in the back of the barn, only letting him out to exercise, always concerned someone would ride up and ask questions. As much as he hated to admit it, the time grew near for him to leave.
“Mr. McCoy, when the weather gets warmer, will you take us fishing?” Chandler wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Fishing.” Jace nodded.
“Can I come, too?” Amelia asked.
Daniel pushed his plate away and leaned his forearms on the table. “I have to return to my regiment very soon.”
“What’s a regiment?” Chandler wrinkled his forehead.
“That’s the group of soldiers I’m fighting the war with.” Daniel glanced over at Rosemarie. She placed her spoon alongside her bowl and folded her hands in front of her, eyes downcast.
Amelia left her chair and climbed onto Daniel’s lap. “I don’t want you to fight in a war.” She stuck her fingers in her mouth and rested her head on his chest.
His large hand smoothed her golden brown curls. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do.”
The little girl raised her soft blue eyes to him. “Like go to bed?”
He chuckled and hugged her. “Yes, like going to bed.”
“Speaking of bed, it’s time you all got washed up and into your nightshirts.” Rosemarie pushed away the food that had turned to dust in her mouth. She stood and began collecting dishes.
Amid groans, the three children left the table and headed down the hallway.
• • •
“I love listening to you read stories each night.” Daniel slid over on the settee to give Rosemarie room to sit as she returned to the parlor.
“A habit my mama started when we were all young.” She settled next to him. Very little pain radiated from her wound. In a day or so, she would be back to normal. And there would be no reason for Daniel to remain.
Her heart thumped. When had she gone from despising the idea of having another husband to wishing this man could somehow fill that role? So different from her father and husband, Daniel McCoy was all that a man should be. He’d made her realize a man could be strong, but tender. Since he could have easily left days ago, the silent message he spoke warmed and chilled her at the same time. He wanted more, too.
“You’ve never spoken much about your family. Tell me about them. Do you have brothers or sisters?”
Rosemarie smiled, happy for the distraction from her troubling thoughts. “We were seven daughters. Papa was not happy with all the girls.” She turned toward him, her elbow leaning on the top of the settee, her head resting in her cupped hand. “In fact, he thought all those females were punishment from the Lord for something he’d done wrong in his youth.”
Daniel grimaced. “That must have hurt.”
She shrugged. “When you grow up with that attitude, it doesn’t seem as bad as it does to someone hearing it for the first time.”
“Are you among the oldest, the youngest?”
“I was the last one. Like the rest of my sisters, when I turned thirteen, Papa sent me out to work. I was lucky, though, to work for Mr. Oliver Morton, who was a judge at the time, and now our governor. He’s a real nice man.”
“And how did you end up married to Hans Wilson?”
Even after all these years, her stomach still clenched when she remembered that day. “Papa came to the judge’s house when I was fifteen and told me he’d arranged for me to be married.”
Daniel’s brows rose. “Fifteen?”
Rosemarie nodded. “One year older than the sister before me.”
Daniel blew out a low whistle.
“It wasn’t so bad. I have three beautiful children.”
“Yes, you do.” Daniel moved closer and twirled a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun. “Makes sense, since they have a beautiful mother.”
She studied his lips as he spoke, then raised her eyelids until her gaze met his. Her heart thundered at the hunger in his eyes. “I don’t feel beautiful,” she whispered.
“Oh, but you are.” Daniel lowered his head, brushed his lips over hers. When she sucked in a quick breath, he pulled her closer and took possession of her mouth, probing her lips with his tongue. His palms skimmed over her curves, lightly at first, then with firmness, his fingers massaging her slim shoulders and her back muscles.
Rosemarie leaned into his hard body, her breasts crushed against his chest. Never before had she felt this heart-stopping desire. Her head spun, and her woman’s core ached with need. To have him touch her, to feel his work roughened hand against her naked skin.
Daniel released her and loosened the buttons on her dress. She clos
ed her eyes, felt the light touch of his feathery kisses on her eyelids, then her nose, her chin, and finally the soft, sensitive skin under her ear. He pushed the dress to her waist and slid the straps of her chemise off her shoulders.
His eyes darkened with passion as he skimmed her exposed skin, and then cupped her breast, kneading, pinching the nipple between his thumb and fore-finger. “Just as I’d imagined. So beautiful.”
Rosemarie threw her head back and moaned. He dipped his head, and pulled a pebbled nipple into his mouth. His teeth grazed the tip and then he suckled deeply, shooting waves of sensation to the apex of her thighs.
A soft moan escaped her lips as she glanced at his head against her chest, his mouth working her breast. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.
“I want you, sweetheart.” He raised his head, and caressed her cheek. “But I have no right.”
Ever since he’d cut his hair and shaved his beard a couple of weeks ago, which revealed the strong chin with a cleft in the center, her hands had itched to run them over his face. Now she gave into the temptation and cupped his cheek. “I don’t care.”
“I have nothing to offer you. I can’t even stay.”
“I don’t care. Just love me for tonight.”
Daniel groaned and swooped her into his arms. He strode the hallway and pushed open the door to her bedroom with his shoulder. He deposited her gently on the bed, his gaze never leaving hers as he pulled his shirt from his pants.
• • •
Scant moonlight cast a glow on the bedroom door as it eased open. Jolted awake by the sound, Rosemarie’s stomach clenched, afraid it was one of the children, who would see Daniel lying alongside her. When the door fully opened, the man who occupied her thoughts stood there, fully dressed. She quickly darted a glance at the mattress, at the outline of his body. He moved further into the room, and sat on the bed next to her. One look at his face and she knew. Her stomach muscles clenched.
“You know.” He took her hand in his. The warmth from his touch shot straight to her core. Tears rushed to her eyes and she blinked rapidly to regain her emotions. For the first time in her life she had felt cared for, as though she meant more to someone than what she could do for them or bring them.
She should be ashamed that she gave herself to Daniel, but in her heart she knew it was right. At least she would have one night of glorious memories to sustain her.
“Yes,” she whispered, her chin trembling. “I know it’s time.”
Daniel pushed the hair away from her forehead, leaned forward and kissed the spot he uncovered. “I wish I could stay.” He released her hand and stared out the window at the bare branches swaying in the late winter wind. “I wish there were no war, no North and South. No Union and Confederacy.” His gaze met hers. “Most of all I wish I could stay here with you, love you every night, watch your belly swell with our child.”
Rosemarie sat up and brought his hand to her cheek. “That’s what I wish for as well.” She dropped his hand and raised her chin. “But wishes are just that, Reb — wishes.”
He smiled at the return of the nickname, then his lips tightened. “I hate that I’m not in a position to make promises.”
“I know.” Rosemarie clasped his large hand in hers. “The children will miss you.”
“Only the children?” His heated gaze searched her face for an answer.
She slowly moved her head back and forth. “No.”
In one swift movement, Daniel crushed her to him, claiming her mouth. Rosemarie parted her lips and he swept his tongue in. The intimacy of the act sent a shock wave through her body. She moaned and slid her palms upward, encircling his neck, pulling him closer.
Daniel raised his head and cupped her cheeks. “You mean so much to me.” When her eyes filled again, he kissed each eyelid. Two tears slid down her cheeks. He tucked her head against his chest and she inhaled deeply, trying to memorize his smell, and feel.
“When this war is over … ”
“No.” She pulled away. “Don’t make promises.” She stiffened her spine, and wiped the dampness from her face. “You have a whole different life, far away from us.”
He took her cold hands in his warm ones. “No, sweetheart, I have no life far away from here. My family’s land has been sold, my parents are both dead, and my brother, if he’s still alive, is fighting with the Union Army.”
Again he pulled her to him. “If I survive, I will return, even if I have to walk all the way.”
Rosemarie shook her head. “Don’t say that. Please.”
He cupped both of her cheeks with his large hands. “Do you think I would make love to you and not plan a future if I were able?”
Unable to speak, she merely shook her head.
Daniel shifted to one knee and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a crested ring, the glow of moonlight emphasizing its rich patina. He stared at the circle of gold for a moment, then took Rosemarie’s hand and placed it in her outstretched palm, closing her long slender fingers around it. “I will be back.”
He sighed and kissed her fisted hand. “If I don’t leave now, I never will. I’m still a wanted man.” Daniel ran his knuckles across her cheek, stood, then headed to the door.
“Where are you headed?” How could she make normal conversation at a time like this?
“To Kentucky. I’ll be safer there. I’ll try to hitch a ride to Virginia.” He stared over her head, his jumbled thoughts visible on his face. “General Lee needs all the help he can get. Something tells me we’re getting close to the end.” He shook his head, as if to clear it. As his hand rested on the doorknob, he added, “I’m leaving the horse for you.”
Rosemarie swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Take the horse. You have a long way to go.”
“No. You need the animal here. I’ll be fine. Get back into bed, it’s cold.”
“Daniel … ”
He shook his head, and left the room, the soft click of the door closing a dagger to her heart.
Chapter Seven
April 10, 1865
“Mama?” Chandler stood alongside Rosemarie’s bed as she eased her eyes open, squinting at the sunlight streaming across the bed bathing her face in warmth.
She’d spent the hours after Daniel’s departure tossing and turning, her thoughts so jumbled, sleep remained elusive. She rose on one elbow, blinking away the grit from her aching eyes, confused at the amount of daylight. It must be long past the time they all generally awoke.
Rosemarie smiled at her son. “What time is it, Chandler?”
“I don’t know, but Amelia and Jace are sick.”
Rosemarie threw the quilt off and stood. “Sick?”
He nodded. “Jace is crying that his throat hurts, and Amelia just threw up. I gave her the chamber pot.”
They hurried to the children’s room. Rosemarie pushed open the door and halted. Her two younger children tossed in their beds, their faces flush with fever.
“Amelia?” She knelt beside her and smoothed back the hair from her brow.
Her daughter stared back at her with glazed eyes. “Mama, I don’t feel good.”
The sound of Jace crying softly caught her attention, and she moved to his bed. The baby thrashed, his legs moving restlessly as he licked his dried lips. “Mama.” He held his hand out, which Rosemarie took, alarmed at the heat radiating from it.
“Itchy,” Amelia whimpered.
Rosemarie scooted back and lifted the child’s nightgown. A rash covered her neck and chest. She checked Jace. The skin on his small body felt dry and scratchy, and he had a similar rash.
“How do you feel, Chan?”
“My throat hurts a little, but I feel okay.”
“I’ll be right back.” Rosemarie left the room,
her heart thumping. Childhood illnesses killed.
Dust motes danced in the air as she hurried down the hallway to the parlor. She raced to the bookshelf Hans had built for her as a wedding present. Shaky fingers retrieved the worn copy of Gunn’s Domestic Medicine, the well-used book her mother had given her when Rosemarie was carrying Chandler. Rosemarie had memories of Mama leafing through the pages while a sick child or two writhed on his bed. Although her mother had managed to raise seven children, she’d given birth to ten. One died at childbirth and the other two succumbed to childhood illness.
Brows furrowed, Rosemarie hastened to the bedroom, flipping the pages as she walked. She skimmed over symptoms of numerous diseases that struck children every year. Her eyes moved back and forth as she read the description under Childhood Diseases.
Symptoms of chicken pox include a rash on the patient’s chest, then face. He will also complain of nausea, fever, headache, sore throat, and pain in both ears. As in all illnesses of childhood, chicken pox may be dangerous, and easily spreads from one person to another. The patient should be kept quiet, and indoors. If possible, a doctor should be consulted for instructions.
“Mama,” Jace wailed right before he vomited onto the floor.
“Chandler, fetch me a pan of water and some cloths to cool your brother and sister down.” She searched his face. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Chandler eyed the mess on the floor and swallowed a few times. “I think so.”
She placed her hand on his forehead. No fever, so far.
“I want you to cool down Jace and Amelia while I clean the floor.” From sheer habit, she headed to her bedroom to dress and fetch Daniel from the barn. She would need help. Then her thoughts stopped her as if she’d run into a wall. Daniel was gone. She was all alone with two, possibly three children, who could die. Tears welled in her eyes. Dear God, what could she do?
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