by Karen Cogan
Gran shook her head. “You already did. I saw you peeking in his doorway this morning. It would be better manners to go on inside.”
Andrew’s napkin fell to the floor as he sprang to his feet. “I’m not going in there and neither of you can make me.”
Caroline felt her jaw drop. What in the world was wrong with this usually mild-mannered child? She stared at him, intending to chastise his rebellious outburst. But he’d already run out the door.
Fragile Dreams
Fragile Dreams
CHAPTER FOUR
Caroline slipped quietly into Nate’s room to pick up the lunch tray. She nurtured a hope that he had fallen asleep before Andrew’s outburst. One look at his face dashed her hopes.
“Your brother feels strongly about having me in the house. I can hardly blame him. It’s hard for a young boy to wait at home when there’s a war. And to have an enemy soldier in his own house is twice as hard. I’m lucky he hasn’t turned me in to the Confederates.”
Caroline shook her head and answered honestly, “I’ve not been able to think of you as the enemy, just a wounded man who needs a place to rest. As for Andrew turning you in, he was the one who insisted we not do so.”
Nate frowned. “That’s strange.”
“It is. I haven’t known what to make of Andrew lately. I’m glad you weren’t offended.”
“Not in the slightest. If he’s anything like you, I’m sure he has his reasons for how he feels.”
She blushed. “He’s always been an easy child until lately. Now, it seems he has a temper after all.”
“And you, Caroline, do you have a temper?”
“Where things I love are concerned. I’d die before I’d see the Yankee army burn my home to the ground.”
“And I’d die before I’d let them, but if you’ll pardon my bluntness, no house is worth losing your life or your soul.” Caroline stiffened. Eyes locked, they appraised each other until Caroline looked away.
Scooping the tray off the bed, she said, “I appreciate your devotion to my interests.”
“It’s well deserved. You saved my life.” He studied her carefully. “Your way of life is ending. I never had money or such a fine house.” He gestured toward the carved cypress wainscot that bordered the walls. “But you can’t build your joy on such uncertain foundations.”
“What would you have me build it on?”
“On the Lord, Caroline. He’s the only surety in this unsure world.”
Caroline uttered a choked cry of derision. “Some surety. It’s been hard work that’s given us what security we’ve had. I don’t think God’s been too concerned about those of us left behind by the war.”
“Real security doesn’t depend on having your world go unchanged. It means trusting God to help you make blessings out of the changes.” She stared out the window at the gray clouds that hovered like avenging angels. “You sound like Gran. She’s always telling me to have faith. But what good is faith when life goes on just as hard whether you have faith or not?”
“But it doesn’t go on as hard when you cast your troubles on the Lord. It’s the only way to have peace.”
A thunderstorm of rebellion flickered in Caroline’s dark eyes. “Then I guess I was never destined to find peace. I can’t trust a God who sits by and allows wars and the horrible suffering they cause.”
Nate clenched his hands, frustrated that his weakened body prevented him from taking her by the shoulders and turning her to face him. He wanted to hold her and look into her eyes and force her to understand the truth. Instead, he said reasonably, “God doesn’t choose war. Men do.”
Caroline stepped gracefully to the doorway, her full skirt swishing to the rhythm of her steps. “Perhaps that’s true. If so, it doesn’t inspire confidence in God’s omnipotence, does it?” She was out the door without waiting for his reply.
Nate clenched his teeth, determined this would not be the end of their discussions. He’d never considered himself a holy man, yet he’d learned there was a peace to be found in trusting God, whether in times of plenty or times of deprivation. He longed to show Caroline she’d never find peace until she released all her concerns for the future into God’s hands. Still, he could tell by the fire in her dark eyes that Caroline Ashcroft was a strong-minded young woman.
****
As the week passed, Nate found he could raise himself to a sitting position without the wave of dizziness that had kept him prone. The pain in his shoulder had decreased to a dull throb thanks to Gran’s careful tending each morning and night. She’d stopped clucking her tongue and shaking her head each time she saw the wound. Careful cleansing had prevented infection. Nate knew now that, with patience, he’d make a full recovery.
Life settled into a pattern. When Caroline finished her evening chores, she would sit in the corner of his room to knit. The house grew quiet after Gran and Andrew went to bed. Nate knew Caroline must be tired, yet she stayed and talked, sometimes until late in the night. He cherished those times, looking forward to them more each day.
As they sat one evening, Caroline said, “I’ve never admitted it to anyone, but I like baking and gardening and using my hands for more than creating fine needlecraft. I know sewing is ladylike, but I don’t like to spend all my time reading and sewing and waiting for beaux to call.”
Nate raised his eyebrows in pretend surprise. “What, not a proper paper doll Southern belle?”
Caroline laughed. “I guess not. I miss the days before the war. Still, I was bored at times.”
Sympathy filled him. “You don’t have much time to be bored now, do you?”
She shook her head. “Pa liked to remind me how idle hands were the devil’s workshop. Yet, he never expected I’d have to keep them busy with washing and cleaning and kitchen work.” She paused in her knitting and inspected her work-reddened fingers.
“What sort of life do you hope to have after the war?” he asked gently.
She stared away. “I always imagined myself mistress of a plantation. But life doesn’t always turn out the way we plan. All my training in deportment did little to help me the last two years. I’ve had to learn all the things about running a house that I never thought I’d need to know.”
“What do you see yourself doing with your life?” he persisted.
Caroline bit her lip. “I don’t know. I’ve never imagined anything except what I was brought up to expect.”
He reached toward her and touched the top of her hand. “Poor Caroline. I think you may find all the hardship is a blessing in disguise. You’ve learned you’re far stronger than you ever thought you could be. Many people never learn that lesson.”
Caroline tensed under his touch. He withdrew his hand, chastising himself for letting his heart rule his actions. Ever since he’d regained consciousness, he’d longed to caress her silky cheek and smooth the dark curls that nestled against her temples.
He was a soldier, used to discipline, and he must summon his discipline where Caroline was concerned. He would not take advantage of the kindness she’d shown by putting her in the awkward position of rejecting his attentions.
Caroline bit her lip, hoping Nate had not felt her pulse leap at his touch. Perhaps he thought charity inspired her to keep him company. Her cheeks grew warm with the denial of this high motive. In fact, she enjoyed the sound of his voice, his easy conversation and his way of expressing the truth. Sometimes she felt as though he could read her mind, probing into corners that housed her deepest insecurity.
She straightened her shoulders. “I hope you don’t expect me to believe all this hardship is a gift from God, and someday, I’ll be grateful.”
His gaze fixed on her, holding her as securely as though she were physically captive. “I hope, someday, you’ll see some good from all you’ve gone through. I’ve learned we can rejoice in hardship to the degree we trust the One who let it happen. He tells us in Jeremiah that He has a plan for each life, a plan to prosper us and not harm us, to bring us hope and a
future.”
“So what of your future, Mr. Sikes? Will you go back to your farm and forget those of us whose futures were forever changed? Some of our men have no homes to return to.” She cringed at the shadow of pain that crossed his face at her accusing words, wishing she’d reigned in her bitterness.
Yet, he answered in an even voice. “I’ve no plans to return to the farm, except to tell my family good-bye. There are too many mouths to feed off that rocky ground as it is and plenty of brothers to give it a try when my daddy gets too old.”
Caroline tilted her head. “Where will you go?”
“I’ve got my mind set on going west. There’s land for the having out in Oregon, good land for farming. And the government gives it free for the settling.”
Her heart lurched at the image of Nate far away on a farm in Oregon. “How could you leave your family and everything you’ve ever known to go so far away?”
The openness faded from his eyes. “You were born on good land, with food on your table. I want a chance to work good black soil into a thriving farm, to have a home to be proud of.”
She supposed he had little to lose, yet she could not bear to think of leaving her home.
“I understand. Still, being so far away from all the memories of childhood must be hard. I was born in this house. James and I took our earliest lessons upstairs in our schoolroom. We played on the back porch.”
“You may have to put your memories behind you sometime and move on.”
Anger at the war and all that it stood for rose in her heart. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have any idea of the changes we’ve already had to endure, the things we’ve already given up. I don’t know why I’ve bothered trying to make you understand.”
“I didn’t start the war, Caroline.” His voice deepened with anger.
“I know it took politicians, not soldiers to start the war. But all of you together seem like locusts come to devour us like kernels of grain. You can leave when the war is over but we’ll be stuck here with constant reminders of our suffering.”
“Union soldiers live with reminders, too. I lost a brother. Some of us carry scars or other permanent disfigurement.” He touched his wounded shoulder.
Caroline sighed. “I know. Both sides suffered tragedy. But we’ve lost a way of life. I don’t suppose you can understand.”
“I understand perfectly. You miss your privileged life and don’t think anyone beneath you can possibly understand. It’s true. I did live in a hovel, compared to your fine house. And I never had servants. But my parents taught me it’s important to judge a person by what’s in his heart, not by what he owns.”
Caroline’s hands shook as she put the needles back into her knitting bag. “I’m not judging you. If you’re happy in your hovel, I couldn’t care less. But don’t reduce the rest of us to the same existence.”
She stood. “I’ve stayed too late. Good-night, Mr. Sikes.” She had not wanted to fight with Nate. Certainly, she’d not wanted to lower his opinion of her. But the damage was done. If he thought her shallow, perhaps he could get well soon and find more preferred company.
She fought back tears as she gathered her skirts and hurried out the door. Gran had left a lamp burning on the kitchen table. Caroline wiped the tears from her eyes, finding they only returned, blurring her vision as she ascended to the upstairs hallway. She paused at her parents’ doorway. Memories rose unbidden, crushing her heart with their weight.
She turned the handle and stepped inside. The polished mahogany furniture still gleamed under her careful tending. The massive four-poster bed that had been too high to climb onto when she was a child and the wardrobe and matching chiffonier greeted her like old friends. The rocking chair Pa had left in the corner of the room reminded her of Ma.
When she was a little girl, Ma had rocked her in that chair when she was frightened or sick. She was frightened now, frightened of all the changes in her life. And she longed desperately for her mother’s comfort. She set the lamp on the bedside table. Impulsively, she undressed to her chemise, shivering in the damp and chilly room. The soft white of the knobbed chenille bedspread beckoned her. It had been her mother’s pride. Her grandmother had made it for Ma’s hope chest. It was to belong to Caroline someday.
She slipped under the sheets and pulled the bedspread close about her as though it were the loving arms of Ma keeping her safe and warm. She wiped away the remnant of tears shed by her argument with Nate. He could not understand her loss was not simply facing the physical difficulties of cold and hunger. The loss of order in a world that had held her secure by its rules, now left her emotionally bereft. Who was she now that the old rules didn’t apply? Once it had been important to be the daughter of James Dilbert Ashcroft II. She vied with other young women to be the most popular and attractive young woman at the balls. She had received countless compliments for faultless manners and gracious behavior. Now there were no young men to admire her except for Jed, and Nate, who didn’t admire her at all. Would this war never end? When it did would the world right itself back into place?
She sighed as she closed her eyes, dreaming of winding staircases and fashionable ball gowns. She awoke, huddled under the blankets in a cold bedroom that had not been warmed since Pa died. She swung her feet from the bed to face another day of hard work. Shivering, she slipped into her clothes and crept to her own room to wash her face before Gran or Andrew awoke to discover the childish way in which she’d sought comfort.
****
Nate cringed as noises from the kitchen woke him from a restless sleep. He wanted to make Caroline understand that God could use her hard circumstances to grow her in His love if she’d only give Him the chance. Instead, he’d said things all wrong and made her leave in tears. He’d intended only to jolt her out of her bitterness. He wished he’d bitten his tongue rather than make her think he took her suffering lightly.
He held his breath as footsteps approached, hoping it would be Caroline who would bring a breakfast tray. He fought back disappointment as Gran rapped lightly and entered the room. “How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Sikes?”
“Better each day, thanks to fine care. I’d best try my feet again and see if I can get up and out of your way. I’ve taken up your room long enough.”
Gran frowned. “Don’t push yourself. It would be better to make sure you have your strength before you get up and hurt yourself worse. That would put you in bed longer than you would have been if you’d stay put.”
Nate accepted the tray, as his mouth watered with the aroma of salt pork and grits.
“I won’t push it. But I can’t be eating up your food.”
Gran smiled. “Don’t worry. The Lord takes care of us, even if Miss Caroline doesn’t always recognize His hand.”
When Gran left, Nate gritted his teeth and eased himself to the edge of the bed. His wound, though healing nicely, still caused pain when he moved. Shifting his weight to his feet, he ignored the burning in his shoulder as he tried to stand erect. No matter what Gran said, he couldn’t continue to be a burden to Caroline, especially when she blamed him for so much of her trouble.
He released the bedpost and set his sight on the mahogany wardrobe across the room. His forehead dampened with perspiration at the effort of his movement.
Caroline hadn’t thought of entering Nate’s room, hadn’t a clue as to what she’d say to him after the quarrel last night. Still, she had not been able to resist a glance inside as she trudged past on her way to the back door to empty the pan of dishwater. She saw him making slow progress, hand extended toward the wardrobe. The bandage around his shoulder did little to hide his well-formed torso, bare above the wrinkled blue army pants in which he’d arrived in her yard. She flew to his side.
“What are you thinking? You’ll pass out and have a broken skull to match your other injury.”
He gritted his teeth, his chin set in determination. “Lying in bed isn’t going to help me get my strength back.”
He continued his exercise. Yet Caroline noted with a certain pleasure that he did not refuse the shoulder she offered for him to lean upon. She supported him on his journey back to bed, his body so close it would have been improper had he not been injured.
His warm skin radiated through the fabric of her gingham dress. She helped him lower onto the mattress and missed the warmth his physical condition had permitted. What would it feel like to be held against his broad chest, not from need of support, but desire of company? She held the picture in her mind as she drew up the cover, her cheeks warm with guilt.
“If you’re going to be up and around, I’ll see if James has a shirt or two that would fit. I’m afraid that bullet made yours unusable.” He studied her, his expression guarded.
“I hope I didn’t offend you. My current appearance surely hasn’t been acceptable for a lady.”