Return to Me

by Rosemary Rogers

  “I need to know what he intends to do with this army he’s building.”

  Spider offered a half grin and lifted the mug to his mouth. “You go to one of his meetin’s and his men talk about showin’ Washington what for. They talk about restorin’ honor to men’s names. Settin’ the government on its ear.”

  “Assassination attempt?”

  Spider lifted a massive shoulder. “Could be, but I don’t think so. Too many men. We’re talkin’ an army here.”

  Jackson studied the man across the table from him. “You think they mean to march on Washington? Or attack?”

  A young man with blond hair and a wicked scar across his forehead appeared from the dingy darkness of the tavern. “Spider, we got to go,” he whispered urgently, glancing behind him. “You know you can’t get caught in here, talking to the likes of him. You’ll be swinging by that big fat neck of yours before dawn.”

  Spider drained the last of the ale and slapped the mug on the table. “Thanks.”

  “No. Thank you.” Jackson slid his hand across the table and lifted it to reveal a pile of coins.

  Spider looked at the money for a long moment. “That’s not the kind of man I am.”

  Jackson glanced at his raggedy, dirty shirt and battered shoes. “Perhaps your family—”

  “My family is dead. I do this because I believe in this here government we got in Washington. ’Cause I got to.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “I’ll see what I can see for ya, Captain.”

  Jackson half rose from the table as Spider disappeared into the dark. “How will I find you?”

  There was laughter. “Ah, Captain Logan, we’ll find you.”

  22

  “I won’t be long,” Taye assured Cameron as she stepped from the carriage. “I realize Thomas is very busy, and I simply want to stop by and see how the offices are coming.”

  “Take as long as you like,” Cameron assured her. “Lacy and I will go down to the dress shop, and I’ll send the carriage back for you.”

  Lacy sat beaming on the leather seat beside Cameron, visibly thrilled to be riding in a carriage.

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Taye answered quickly as she popped up her pink-and-white parasol. “I can walk. It’s only a short distance.”

  Falcon frowned and Cameron caught his eye in understanding. “I’ll send the carriage back for you, Taye.” She waved. “Have a lovely time.”

  “Have a lovely time, Aunt Taye,” Lacy mimicked, practicing her manners.

  This morning Taye had listened as Cameron spent ten minutes at the breakfast table teaching the girl how to properly say good morning. Taye found the idea of Cameron instructing Lacy on manners both amusing and ironic. In their younger years, it was Cameron who had argued and fought against decorum, and Taye who had always attempted to steer her in the right direction.

  Taye eyed the young girl seated beside Cameron, hoping fervently that her sister knew what she was doing with this hoyden. The child was uneducated, ill-mannered and had the temper of a bee-stung she-bear. Cameron insisted the girl truly was Grant’s by-blow. Taye just hoped that her sister was correct and that she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew.

  Right now, of course, Lacy was sitting beside Cameron behaving quite perfectly, hands folded in her lap as instructed. Maybe she did just need guidance, as Cameron suggested.

  Taye watched the carriage pull away, still making a point to ignore Falcon. If he was going to stare at her like that right here in public, she was certainly not going to encourage him.

  Adjusting her straw bonnet, edged in pink ribbon, Taye walked across boards that had been laid down for clients and opened the door to Thomas’s law office. The first room was a reception area, which had been recently painted a pale peach and still smelled of wet paint. Someone was pounding nails elsewhere in the building and she could hear the steady rasp of a saw.

  “Thomas?” she called.

  She heard a cough and someone clearing his throat. It was him. He’d been coughing since he arrived in Jackson, and if it didn’t ease soon, Taye was going to insist he see a doctor.

  “There you are,” she called, following a narrow hall to the room she knew would be his private office, once the rear wall, damaged by Sherman’s shelling, was replaced.

  Workmen had been cutting wood on the floor and she had to lift her pink petticoats to step over a pile of sawdust. “Thomas,” she called cheerfully when she spotted him near the new window. He had a guest, a dark-haired, distinguished-looking gentleman with a small mustache that barely covered his lip.

  “Taye,” Thomas said, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief and stuffing it into his pocket. “So kind of you to stop in.”

  She smiled, thinking he truly did seem pleased she was here. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” She patted her new hairstyle, a delicate chignon.

  “Of course not. I was expecting you. Mr. Gallier, let me introduce you to the late Senator David Campbell’s daughter, Taye Campbell.”

  Taye froze. The senator’s daughter? Was that how Thomas was introducing her? The senator’s daughter and not his fiancée?

  The gentleman reached for her hand, then halted and stared at Taye. Several uncomfortable seconds passed before he blinked and then nodded politely. “I apologize, mademoiselle, it is only that you remind me greatly of someone else. Someone lost to me. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a strong French-Creole accent.

  “Oui, a pleasure to meet you, as well.” She allowed him to kiss her gloved hand, forcing herself to continue to smile politely though her heart plummeted. Why would Thomas not introduce her as his fiancée?

  “Mr. Gallier is a potential client, Taye. He knew Jackson from the war. It was kind of him to stop and see the progress on the offices, don’t you think?”

  Taye kept the smile plastered to her mouth. “Kind, indeed.”

  “Well, I must go, but I will return when next I come to Jackson, oui, Monsieur Burl? And we can further explore my options.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Thomas pumped his hand eagerly. “I look forward to seeing you. Once you send me those files, I can begin work immediately.”

  Mr. Gallier bowed to Taye and replaced his bowler. “Au revoir.”

  “Well,” Thomas said, clasping his hands as the Creole gentleman exited the building. “Are you having a good day?”

  She studied him, hoping she had misinterpreted his earlier words. Perhaps he was just nervous about having a new client and had blundered the introduction. After all, Thomas had never been particularly adept at polite conversation. Perhaps he had realized his mistake, but simply hadn’t been able to figure out how to correct it gracefully. Any of those minor breaches was forgivable. What would not be forgivable would be Thomas intentionally keeping their relationship a secret because she embarrassed him.

  “I was having a nice day until I came here,” Taye said, staring at her intended.

  His brows knitted. “Whatever do you mean?” He rubbed his balding head with his hand, nervously.

  She took a step closer to him, not wanting to share their conversation with the workmen she could hear in the office beside them. “You introduced me to Mr. Gallier as David Campbell’s daughter.”

  “Well, yes. Most heard during the war. It’s old news, Taye. I sincerely doubt anyone would—”

  “You introduced me as David’s daughter, but not as your fiancée.”

  His face pinkened immediately, and while Taye had hoped she had made a mistake, she knew by his reaction that she had not. Her heart seemed to tumble until it reached her pink slippers. “Thomas, why would you do that?”

  “I…I don’t know,” he confessed. “It was on the tip of my tongue to say we were engaged. Truly it was.” He began to cough and pulled out his handkerchief. The coughing continued for a full minute, a nasty racking cough that seemed to come from deep inside him.

  She waited until the fit subsided. “But you didn’t say it?” she questioned.

  He squirmed,
wiping the corners of his mouth. “I’m sorry, Taye. It was wrong of me. It’s only that I have just returned to Jackson, and there are many here who have suffered a great deal. They are trying desperately to retain what they can of their old way of life and—”

  “And they don’t believe a white man should marry a negra wench?” she challenged.

  “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that—” Thomas hung his head. “Yes, I suppose that is it,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  He did seem remorseful, but that didn’t ease the ache in Taye’s chest. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” She wanted to cry, but she bit back her tears.

  “I am.” He bobbed his head. “I am, Taye. It…it was an error in judgment. I do love you.”

  “And you still want to marry me? Because if you don’t, Thomas, you should say so now.” It took him a moment longer than she liked for him to answer.

  “Of course I still want to marry you.” He pushed his handkerchief into his trouser pocket and reached for her hand. “It’s only that…it’s harder than I thought it would be.”

  She pulled back, not wanting him to touch her. “What is harder than you thought it would be?”

  He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Being here. Talking to so many people who have lost so much. I know it’s wrong but…but you can see how they would blame the freed slaves for all that’s happened to them.”

  “But, Thomas, what does that have to do with me?” Taye demanded. “My father freed me and my mother years ago. I didn’t start this war!”

  “I know.” Thomas shook his head sadly. “I know. Please don’t be angry with me, Taye. I don’t know that I could stand to have you angry with me. It’s just that you’re so strong and me…I’m weak,” he murmured. “It’s your Campbell blood, I suppose.”

  “No, Thomas. You’re wrong. You’re not a weak man.” As she tried to convince him, she tried to convince herself. “Why, think of all the things you did in the war. You’re a brave man. A hero.”

  “Jackson,” he whispered. “It was all Jackson. I did it for him. I did it all with him. I’ve got no spine of my own.”

  Taye sighed, a sadness filling her. He was right. She didn’t want him to be, but he was. “You were a brave man to admit to me that the color of my skin does concern you,” she said softly.

  “Please let me make it up to you,” Thomas begged. “Don’t go away angry.”

  Her anger was gone now, but in its place was the empty ache she knew too well. It was an ache she had hoped Thomas could fill, but realized now that he never could. “I think we should talk of this later, when we’ve both had time to think,” she said kindly.

  He bobbed his head, seeming relieved that she was going. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I…I’ll see you this evening. Perhaps we can go for a walk after we dine.”

  Taye turned and walked out of the office and he let her go. She pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it to her damp eyes. She had been sure that marrying Thomas was what she wanted, and now she felt like a boat adrift in the sea. Halfway down the hallway, she nearly ran into Falcon.

  “Oh!” Taye cried. “I didn’t realize you had come inside.” Her gaze met his and she realized he must have heard at least part of her conversation with Thomas. “You were listening!” she accused.

  “I was waiting for you as Cameron instructed me.”

  Taye turned on her heels and strode through the reception area to the door, too wrought with emotion to know what to do or what to say, mortified that Falcon had heard what passed between her and her betrothed—if he was still her fiancé.

  She hurried across the boardwalk.

  At the carriage, Falcon grasped her around the waist and lifted her up before she could protest. She plopped down in the front seat and slid over to make room for him.

  “I am sorry,” he said quietly as he released the brake and urged the pair of bays forward.

  “Whatever are you sorry for?” she snapped, covering her pain with anger as she had seen Cameron do so many times. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I am sorry that in this place, a woman can be judged by the color of her skin. My people have suffered from this prejudice, as well.”

  Taye turned to him, and for the first time she realized that of all the people she knew, this was the one person who could truly understand her position. “Jackson said your mother was Cherokee,” she said softly.

  He nodded. “She is dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He turned and looked at her and Taye felt as if she stumbled, fell into the dark pools.

  “I believe that you are,” he said and covered her hand with his.

  As they rode down the street, his hand on hers on the seat between them, Taye wondered what she was going to do. She wondered just what her choices were and whether Falcon played a part in them.

  Thomas stood in the empty office and stared at the door Taye had just walked through, not believing he had done that to her. How could he have been so weak, so unkind?

  Taye had never been anything but good to him. She had offered her love to him on the boat that night in the Gulf of Mexico, the first woman who had ever loved him. And this was how he repaid her?

  He began to cough and pulled out his handkerchief, coughing so hard that he sank into a chair in the corner of the room. It was getting worse. He had tried several concoctions from apothecaries in Baltimore, all sorts of nasty smelling and tasting droughts, but nothing seemed to ease the symptoms.

  He coughed until he thought his lungs would burst, and finally the seizure ended. He patted his mouth with his handkerchief, trying to think what he would say to Taye tonight when they went for their walk.

  Perhaps he should move back into his parents’ home. Several rooms had been cleaned and were fit for living. Living apart from Taye would give her some time to think. He had told her he would marry her, and if that was what she wished, he would keep his promise. But now that she had seen him for the man he truly was, he hoped she would think long and hard on the proposition. And if Taye decided she would not marry him…

  He glanced at the white handkerchief, now dotted with red specks of blood, balled in his hand.

  Perhaps it would be for the best anyway.

  Jackson nodded to the servant who had shown him into Secretary Seward’s private library and then closed the door behind him.

  The Secretary of State was seated near a cold fireplace, a book on his lap. The dark-paneled room seemed appropriate to Jackson; it smelled of pipe tobacco and knowledge.

  “I apologize for interrupting you at home, sir,” Jackson said, standing stiffly and tucking his hands behind his back. “Your personal secretary said you did not intend to go into your office in the next couple of days, and I needed to speak with you. Information came through only this morning that warrants I leave at once for Chattanooga.”

  “Jackson, please.” Seward waved him closer. “Enough of the apologies. Mostly I remain home to pacify my wife. She fears I’m back to work too quickly.” He lifted one hand. “A small inflammation in one of my wound sites. It’s nothing.” He gestured. “Please sit down. How can I help you? If you need to go to Chattanooga, you know we have monies and men at your disposal. You needn’t ask my permission.”

  “Actually, sir, that’s why I’ve come.” Jackson did not sit.

  “You’ve need of finances? Men?”

  Jackson shook his head. “I need permission to work alone. Falcon Cortés has remained in Mississippi to guard my wife and—”

  “Ah, I see now. We speak of Mrs. LeLaurie,” he said. Seward’s expression grew solemn.

  Jackson stared at the expensive but well-worn oriental carpet beneath his feet. For the last week he had done nothing but debate what to do about Marie. He knew he could not see her again. It was the least he could do for Cameron. And while Jackson did not want his personal business to interfere in state business, he felt he could no longer work in close contact with Marie. It was no
t in his best interest, and therefore, in this case, not in the Union’s best interest. If Seward wanted him to track down Thompson and his raiders, it would be on his own.

  Seward reached for his pipe. “So the rumors—”

  “Will.” Jackson addressed the Secretary of State carefully. “My wife has recently had a miscarriage. You know how hurtful gossip can be. Rumors don’t have to be true to cause injury to others.”

  Seward studied Jackson for a moment and then nodded. “Mrs. LeLaurie will be removed immediately from the mission.”

  “If you’d prefer, I can step down. I—”

  “Jackson, I’ll be frank.” Seward pinched a bit of tobacco from a tin and pressed it into the bowl of his pipe. “You are not the first gentleman who has found Mrs. LeLaurie difficult to work with. She’s an excellent operative, but she—Let’s just say she enjoys making these assignments more personal than necessary. You are not the first man who has come to me with this concern. And although she has excellent contacts, this was one of my concerns when we accepted her offer to assist us at the very beginning of the war. Shall we say her reputation with married men preceded her?”

  Jackson could feel the heat of embarrassment color his cheeks. He was not the only man caught in Marie’s web? Somehow that made him feel better. It was no excuse, though it salved his conscience. He didn’t want to hurt Marie, but better her than Cameron.

  “In truth, I already have another assignment for her,” Seward went on. “One she’ll be far more suited to, in New Orleans, involving some brothels.”

  That was the first time Jackson realized Seward didn’t like Marie. Never had, apparently. With a jolt, it struck him that he hadn’t liked her, either. Not really. The sex that one time had been good but…Or had it? Had he ever felt with Marie what he felt with Cameron, his wife, the woman he’d sworn before God to honor and protect with his life?

  Damn, he’d been weak. He’d let need and circumstances compromise his sense of right and wrong. There was no whitewashing the truth. And no changing what had happened, only what would. No more Marie, he swore silently, and no more like her, ever.