Christie

by Veronica Sattler

  One night, about a month after Adam's birth, Garrett awoke to the sound of his son's crying, and noting the cries came from Christie's room, and not the nursery, he donned his robe and went to investigate. Moving silently through the two inner doors which had remained ajar since that first morning following their son's arrival, he came upon Christie pacing the floor with the disquieted infant. Seeing her husband in the doorway, Christie turned a troubled countenance toward him. "He's been fretting for hours, and I can't seem to give him any comfort."

  "Christie," said Garrett, moving toward her, "why are you up with the babe? Where's Lula? Or Millie, or Katy, or any of the other servants? You need your rest, especially with the christening tomorrow. The day will be tiring enough for you without your having no sleep."

  "I know, Garrett, but Lula was up with him for hours already, and she looked so exhausted, I told her I'd try to quiet him after I fed him, thinking he was only hungry. The rest of the household is asleep, and, well—"

  "And 'well' is exactly what you're not going to be, madam, if I let you continue this way," said Garrett, taking the fretting infant gently from her.

  Then he began to rub and pat the babe's back, a bit too roughly Christie was about to say, when all of a sudden, there emanated such a large belch from the tiny creature that the room fairly echoed with the sound of it, and at once the crying ceased.

  "Well, my man," chuckled Garrett, "I'd say that one came from your very toes," and giving Christie a smiling wink, he walked softly to the nursery and laid the drowsy infant in his cradle.

  When he returned, he found Christie at the windows, which were open. A warm, balmy breeze wafted in, gently ruffling her hair which trailed loosely over her shoulders and down her back. The sheer white gown she wore fell softly to the floor, its gossamer folds lending only the merest transparent suggestion of clothing as the bright moonlight filtered through, silhouetting her body's every curve.

  Noting all of this, Garrett's throat grew dry as he watched her from the doorway, and he was acutely conscious of the long months of celibacy he had endured since they had parted in New York. He smiled wryly to himself as he remembered briefly all those times since then that he had disdained the charms of other women, understanding now, the desire for abstinence which had puzzled him then. He wanted, needed, no other woman; he desired only Christie, this purely miraculous, enchanting creature who had entered his life almost by accident, and who now consumed all his thoughts and emotions, very being. He wanted her now, in the most immediate sense, and also in the total concept of the word. But he felt the time was not right yet, and, taking a long breath, he put aside his inclinations of moment with an eye to the future joys of a lifetime.

  "Will you sleep, now?" he asked softly.

  She turned to him, her face a mirror of tenderness and, yes, Garrett was sure, love.

  "You were wonderful with him, Garrett," said Christie, her eyes large and luminous. "I somehow never guessed you would be such a loving father. . . . to answer your question. Suddenly, I'm no longer sleepy. I suppose it's the excitement about tomorrow—not only the christening, but my first trip out of the house since my confinement."

  "Can I get you something?" he asked, his eyes smiling into hers.

  Christie laughed. "If this were Windreach, in other days, I'd say yes to a warm midnight bath. Meirie fixed me one once. It was the night after I'd received Thunder. I was so excited from the events of the day, I couldn't sleep, and she roused three servants to heat water and draw me a bath."

  "Then, so can I," said Garrett, moving toward the door to the hallway, "and a dozen servants; if need be."

  "No," she said, putting a slender hand on his arm to stay him. "You see, while I'd love a bath, I'm afraid the doctors say I'm—I'm not healed enough to allow it yet, and I must be content with basin and sponge until I am. Oh, but thank you for the offer. I've always doted on my daily bath."

  "How soon before you're well enough?" asked Garrett.

  "A whole wretched fortnight, yet!" she complained. "Such an age!"

  "And yet, little enough time." Garrett smiled. "It will pass quickly, little one." His green eyes were fixed intently on hers.

  "Yes," she said softly. "It will pass quickly."

  He was standing very close, his dark head tall above her. Very slowly, he lowered it and kissed her fully on the lips.

  Christie's eyes closed as a flood of sweet weakness washed over her whole body. His lips felt warm as they lingered on hers for a moment, and the familiar feel of them plunged her into memories of other times when she had felt their touch. He withdrew them slowly, his hands lightly resting on her shoulders, and the look of love she thought she saw in his face made her heart leap and she held her breath in her throat.

  "Good night, Christielove," he whispered. Then he left and went to his own chamber.

  "Good night, Garrett," breathed Christie, her fingers touching the lips he had just kissed. "Good night, beloved."

  The next morning found the entire household in a busy state as preparations were made to take Adam Jeremy to church and to officially name him in the eyes of God and the faithful. In private, Jesse wondered at the number of eyebrows that would raise as Garrett Randall made his first appearance at the little brick house of worship in over twenty years. The Rev. John Sinclair, of course, had already been informed, and that old gentleman's joy at the news had been wondering and vocal.

  "Jesse, I cannot believe it!" he had exclaimed, when the infant's uncle had ridden to his home to make the arrangements. "Do you think the birth of the child can have restored his faith after all these years?"

  "That may have been a part of it, sir," Jesse had told him, "but I think the love of a certain young roman has had the greatest effect on my brother, ^wait until you meet her. I think then maybe you'll have an easier time understanding what may be only the beginning of some major changes in Garrett's outlook on everything." He chuckled. "You know, some women are only beautiful on the outside. Christie Randall has it from within, as well. I imagine it would be difficult for anyone to be hard and bitter for very long in the face of all that sunshine and zest for life."

  "But your brother isn't just anyone," Sinclair had reminded him.

  "No, but his wife loves him in ways I couldn't begin to measure. Now, Garrett's just begun to find lis out,"—Jesse had smiled—"and his old convictions are already acting like a mountain hit by an earthquake."

  Jesse also mused on the number of broken hearts their appearance in church would cause, as several local young ladies and their hopeful mothers only now found out that the eligible Garrett Randall was married. Since both Randall men had been for some time the subjects of hot feminine pursuit on the part of the area's unwed females, news of Garrett's marriage was sure to cause its share of disappointments. Briefly Jesse gave a weary sigh as he reminded himself that now he could expect to become sole recipient of all those tiresome attentions.

  Sometime around midmorning, the already-bustling household was sent into an even greater hubbub by the surprise arrival of Aunt Celia Trevellyan and Barnaby Rutledge. Charles had written them, saying he intended to stay on at Riverlea through the baptism of his grandson, and Celia, who had already been invited to the christening of Melissa and Beau Richardson's baby daughter the week before, had persuaded Barnaby to meet her in Charleston and escort her to the Randall plantation. She came on the scene full of congratulations and good wishes, coupled with remonstrances that no one had taken the trouble to let poor Margaret and Philip know the whereabouts of Christie or Charles—let alone that the Stanhope grandchild would have a cousin of almost exactly the same age. She also carried with her, her niece's own christening gown, carefully preserved for the day when a child of Christie's would wear,it.

  The ceremony came off without any difficulties, not even from young Master Adam Jeremy, who slept through the whole thing nestled most of that time in his father's big arms. Afterward, as they left the church to walk to the waiting carriages, no one seemed
to mind very much that Christie and Garrett stayed far behind the others, and Jesse noticed, as he carried his new godson up the path, that Garrett held his wife's hand as they walked.

  In the evening there was a celebration feast in the dining room of the big house, and spirits were high.

  "You couldn't have asked for a better behaved baby," beamed Charles, "though I hope his sleeping in church doesn't prove a harbinger of how he will react to the sermons of years to come," he added, laughing.

  "As I recall," interjected Celia, "his mother was also quiet during her own ceremony, but wide-eyed and awake the whole time."

  "Aye," chuckled Charles, "and badly mannered, too, I'm afraid, presenting godfather Barnaby here with a very damp lap!"

  There was laughter all around, and Christie blushed good-naturedly as she joined in.

  "I see that, even then, Christie attended no event without making her presence felt," chuckled Garrett, and there was more laughter from the table.

  "Don't feel so bad, Christie," said John Sinclair. "I officiated at your husband's christening, and I assure you, he was no gentleman himself at that tender age. Not only did he howl furiously during the entire ceremony, but he gave the top of the baptismal font such a fierce kick, it fell to the floor and broke."

  Christie hid her smile behind a pretended cough as Garrett threw a semiserious frown in Sinclair's direction and the others laughed heartily.

  As the merriment continued, Christie was called away to feed Adam, and when Barnaby noticed how her husband's eyes followed her until the moment she disappeared from view, he gave Charles a quick wink and a smile which his old friend returned with an ear-to-ear smile of his own.

  After dinner everyone retired to the drawing room, including the men, for, as Jesse remarked, he and Garrett had never been fond of that custom which separated the gentlemen from the fair sex at the end of a meal. Christie joined them there, coming to stand behind her husband's chair as he sat relaxing with a cheroot.

  "Tell me, Garrett," asked Barnaby, "how difficult has it been for you to work without slave labor on your plantation?"

  . "In terms of getting the work done, not difficult at all," answered Garrett, "but in terms of having it accepted by our neighbors in this, the major slave-holding state, it is not easy."

  "Just the problem Charles has," said Barnaby. "Virginia is second highest among the states for numbers of slaves owned, and those who do own them resent someone of Charles's stature eschewing the practice."

  "There are those who say Father could have been governor if he thought differently," added Christie. "We heard similar talk of our father when we were children," said Jesse, who had noticed his brother had taken his wife's hand as it rested on the back of his chair and, having reached up to hold it, was now playing gently with the wedding ring she wore.

  "It's true," said John Sinclair. "Your father was well liked in the county and becoming known throughout the state, but when he gave up the practice of owning slaves, he might as well have declared himself out of the running—for any office."

  "Yes, but owing to his fine character and good nature, people still liked and respected him as a man," said Garrett.

  "What made him decide to give up slaves if he already owned some?" questioned Charles.

  "One day, when I was just ten and Jesse a toddling mite, our father came home from Charleston and informed our mother that he had just experienced something that changed forever his convictions on the matter. Then he took the two of us boys back to Charleston with him and we experienced it, too. He took us aboard a slaver. The ship had just docked in the harbor, and while there were no longer any of those poor devils on it, all the rest of the evidence of their tenure was there. I will never forget the sight of those chains as long as I live—and the smell . . . the stench aboard that vessel is ingrained in my memory for all time. When we came home, our father immediately set about selling all his slaves. It took some time, for he was particular that they go to good homes and that families not be broken up. We found out later that he had tried to set them free, although it would have come close to impoverishing him, but there was pressure from his neighbors not to do this, for fear their own slaves would hear of it and the seeds of resentment and perhaps even insurrection would be sown."

  "Yes," said Jesse, "and not being a man to instigate trouble of those proportions, he just quietly sold off his own. Since that day no Randall has owned a slave."

  "I declare," interrupted Celia, "but all this talk of economics and politics is just too much for me. If you'll all excuse me, I think I'll go upstairs and peek in on my grandnephew and then retire. Christie, I'd ask you to join me, but I know such discussions have always been your meat. Garrett, I hope you know what you're in for. All this talk about running for governor—it just made me thankful women don't— heaven forbid—run for office, or your wife would likely one day be running with the best of them."

  Then she nodded and left the room, prompting the Reverend Sinclair to take one look at Joanna Sinclair and declare she must be bored by such topics also and that they would be taking their leave.

  So the evening ended, a full day for all, and as Garrett walked Christie up the stairs to her chamber, she felt an overwhelming sense of gladness at her lot in life, a joy in just being alive. She was young, attractive, and healthy; she had a wonderful family and good, good friends, a new baby son, and a handsome husband who, maybe, just maybe, was growing to care for her. It still amazed her to hear bits of stories and information about Garrett and his past, as she had tonight, and to realize how much what she learned confirmed him to be the kind of man she would have described she desired in a husband, long before she met him, had she been asked. "And, yet, I thought I hated him once," she thought, "and to love him as I do now... So much for maidenly convictions ..."

  "It's very puzzling, indeed," she said aloud without realizing it.

  "What's puzzling, little one?" questioned Garrett.

  They had just stopped before her chamber door, and he was fingering the lock of hair that curled over her left breast as he gazed thoughtfully down at her.

  "Oh," said Christie with a smile, "just maidenly convictions."

  "I see," said Garrett, not really sure he saw at all, "hardly fitting food for the thought of a young matron about to turn nineteen in a couple of months."

  "Oh, Garrett, has it really been that long?"

  "Longer," he said, his voice low and serious.

  Christie was just hoping he might want to kiss her again then, when a loud squalling from the nursery distracted them.

  "That would be Randall obstinacy," chuckled Garrett. "Finding out he slept through the best part of the big day, our son won't be content unless he makes up for it by keeping us awake half the night."

  345

  Sighing, Christie mentally put her hopes in her pocket and went to see what might be done to quiet their son.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  "It's all pure rainwater," exclaimed Lula while she added another warm bucketful to Christie's tub. "Been collecting it all these weeks, saving it just for this occasion!"

  "Oooh, Lu!" giggled Christie. "It's heaven! I know we washed my hair in the basin just yesterday, but can we wash it again in this?"

  "Um-hmm," answered Lula. "Just let me go downstairs and warm some rinse water for it. You just relax and wallow a little bit. Ah'll be back in two shakes or a little more."

  She had just gone, and Christie was sticking one shapely leg up into the air, squeezing water over it with a sponge and watching it trickle down as she hummed a small tune to herself. She felt totally pampered and perhaps even wicked at the pleasure she was having with the long-awaited bath.

  "I may never come out," she said to herself aloud before resuming her tune.

  "I'll admit it must feel good, but you would miss life's other pleasures," said her husband's voice.

  Looking up in surprise, she saw Garrett leaning in the doorway to the sitting room, a wide grin on his face. He wore
tight-fitting green riding breeches, his habitual black riding boots, and a full-sleeved, white silk shirt open nearly to the waist. His dark hair was tousled casually over his forehead and his green eyes were bent intently on her as she sat quietly watching him from the tub. She began to have some familiar curling sensations deep in the pit of her stomach as they stared at each other like this for several moments. He was, oh, so impossibly handsome, and she wanted him, oh, so very much. Christie felt very vulnerable just then.

  "Well," drawled Garrett, still grinning. "You finally got your bath! I thought I heard sounds of ecstasy coming from in here."

  "I feel like an absolute hedonist," giggled Christie as she regained some of her former composure. "And I don't care, either!"