Summer Rose

by Caroline Hartman

  He didn’t know how long he slept, but his dreams were strange. At one point he was almost sure the dream was real. From the depths of the white smoke, an old man spoke, hugged him like a son. “I’m Colonel Micah McAllister. These two are my sons, William and Colin, both captains with the regiment.” He nodded toward the angel. “My daughter thinks you’re worth saving, Danny. Make sure you deserve her trust.”

  When Daniel awoke, the smoke was gone. Stretched beside him, asleep, wasn’t an angel, but a beautiful girl, blanketed in dappled sunshine. Silky, sable-colored hair sprawled halfway down her chest, the ends curling over her breasts. He moved his eyes to her face, where thick dark lashes brushed against honey-hued skin. His attention, like a magnet, drifted back down to the silky skin stretching over the most beautiful arms and shoulders he’d ever seen. His gaze drifted lower, taking in the cream-colored flesh at her waist as it peeked from below the hem of her little camisole. Above the ruffled bodice, her breasts swelled, gently rising and falling with every breath. Right now, he thought, I want to lay my cheek there. The urge was so strong he could practically feel the soft skin against his face.

  As he considered doing just that, the girl opened her eyes and caught him ogling her breasts. They were Kip’s eyes. She sat with a jerk and her hair tumbled down her front.

  He glanced quickly up and caught her surprise, then tried to blink away the heat in his cheeks. He hoped he hadn’t insulted her. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her. It’s just that breasts and the unexpected abundance of hair on Kip’s head confused him. He hadn’t been prepared for either, and he definitely hadn’t expected Kip to be beautiful. He wanted to tell her as much, but his tongue had wrapped around itself. Feeling as daft as an eight-year-old, he stared up at her, suddenly awkward under her great, ocean-blue eyes.

  She didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she turned to his leg and pulled the bandages back with a feather-soft touch. She leaned in and lowered her head, then sniffed the wound and smiled.

  “Look,” she whispered, happiness dancing in her voice. “No redness, no putrid smell. Oh, Daniel, you’ll be fine. We’ll watch it, but I know you won’t lose your leg now.” She giggled and winked, as if sharing a secret. “My da made good medicines. Before the war, we stashed a keg of it in a cave under the lake.”

  A long breath shuddered through him as his fear slipped away again. He’d not known, until this moment, how terrified he’d been of losing his leg. She refitted the bandages and another beautiful smile crossed her face. Like the sun bursting from behind clouds.

  “I put your horses in my lean-to and plucked out some nice long hair from your horse’s tail to use as thread for your stitches. Only took nineteen. I boiled the hair to soften it – a trick my da taught me. Horsehair works better than thread.”

  When they’d first come to Washington, that summer before Bull Run, Hal had visited the whorehouses. The tales he’d told hadn’t impressed Daniel. Neither man needed such establishments; impending war somehow changed the rules. A lot of women, respectable women, went wild, finding creative ways and places to seduce these handsome heroes to be. Neither he, nor Hal, nor their following of classmates who had hoped to pick up their leftovers, gave a damn. They were a herd of young bucks, loose and kicking up their heels for the first time in their lives. While McClellan dallied, they gathered the spring bouquets of wartime Washington: in cabs, in empty bedrooms and horse stalls, in rowboats, haylofts, and even once in a darkened coat closet in the Executive Mansion.

  On the surface, they were just being young, enjoying their lives to the fullest. In the depths of their souls, they’d known exactly what they were doing: crowding a lifetime into a few weeks, making a mad attempt to become immortal. Hal and Daniel had relished the hunt, the pursuit, and the conquest. To the two friends, love, lust, and war had all been part of the same game. Veni, vidi, vici. ‘I came, I saw, I conquered’ applied to women as well as battle. They moved from one part of the game to the other as easily as a sleek horse moves from a walk to a canter to a gallop.

  Now his breath hovered at the top of his chest, and he felt dizzy with need of it. He grabbed her hand, suddenly filled by a horrible, irrational fear of losing her. Never had he wanted a girl like he wanted this one. ‘Want’ wasn’t even the right word. He knew right then that he wanted her more than just how a man wants a woman.

  Across the fire, Hal stirred, then awoke with a start. He stood and shook himself like a dog, then walked to the water’s edge, where he splashed water over his face and head. He nodded to Daniel and the girl, then knelt and inspected his friend’s leg as she rose to feed the fire.

  “It looks good.” He angled his head toward the girl, and whispered to Daniel. “I was out-of-my-mind drunk. She’s gorgeous. I thought she was an angel.”

  “I did, too,” Daniel admitted. “She might just be.”

  The afternoon sun beat down so hot the wet sand steamed. Daniel sat back, leaning against a rock and aching all over, his leg throbbing. The girl, now with her tan shirt over her cotton camisole and bloomers, moved about the campsite, picking up and cleaning up. She enlisted Hal’s help and they flipped the canoe then twisted water out of the blankets and bedrolls. They rigged a clothesline and slung the damp blankets over it. Hal said something; she laughed. An enormous pang of jealousy grabbed Daniel’s chest.

  She turned back toward Daniel. “You two get some rest now. I’ll be back in an hour or so with dinner. I put your horses in the lean-to before the storm. No doubt they’re ready to graze.”

  She stooped, fiddling with something at the fire then walked toward Daniel, smiling as sweetly as a cherub. She knelt beside him, handed him another scalding cup of the foul-smelling tea, and brushed his blond hair out of his eyes.

  “It’s made from willow bark and herbs. I know you don’t like it, but it helps with the fever and pain. Drink it.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Hal, make sure he does.”

  She turned back toward him, and a lazy, sweet smile twinkled in her eyes. She swept her hand across his forehead again, gentle as a feather. “Sleep is the best thing for you right now, Daniel.”

  His name came out as a caress. Her fingertips may as well have been her lips. A sweet shudder ran through him and the jealousy that had practically ripped a hole in him a minute before flew away.

  His voice came out full of wonder, just a touch above a whisper. “What should I call you? Kip?”

  He knew the poets raved about the beauty of porcelain white flesh, and Philadelphia debutants bathed in milk to whiten theirs. But from the moment he’d first seen her, even when she’d been Kip, he’d noticed her golden color, and he loved her creamy honey hue. His mind spun, looking at her. He’d never seen skin so perfect.

  She shrugged and imitated a Scottish brogue. Her strange eyes danced as her r’s rolled off her tongue. “Well, ye saw through me Kip disguise, did ye? Fiddlesticks! I’ll need to think of another.” She arched her eyebrows. “An old man, perhaps?” She stood, shouldered her shotgun and knapsack, and placed them in the canoe.

  “I’ve always been called Summer Rose,” she said shyly, then put one foot in the canoe and pushed off from the beach. “Drink that tea.”

  As the canoe pulled away from the shore, Hal spoke. “Should I go with her? I mean, should she be walking around in her undergarments like that? Do you think she’s safe?”

  Under his breath, Daniel said, “You stay right here.”

  Hal’s thick dark eyebrows jerked up. “Daniel, I’d never hurt a girl.”

  A smile softened Daniel’s voice, but it had an edge to it. “I know, Hal. Neither of us would. We’re honorable men. I just don’t want you to fall in love with that particular girl. If you want this one, we’ll have a problem. I want her,” he said as he let out a deep, low breath, then his eyes flashed to Hal. “Not only like you think. I want to keep her.”

  Hal clucked his tongue, looking scandalized. “You’re all but engaged to Miss Mary McGill, aren’t you?”

 
Daniel let loose another ripping breath. “Good Lord, I missed that one, didn’t I? I almost asked her on my last leave.” He shook his head. “My mother, you know her. She was dropping hints, pushing me.” He tossed a twig into the fire. “All hell will no doubt break loose, but no. I want this girl.”

  “You sure?”

  He took a long swallow of the tea, watching the canoe grow smaller, its tiny wake smoothed by the lake. He nodded then rolled onto his side. “I’m sure,” he said, then slept.

  CHAPTER 5

  LOVE AT A FULL CAVALRY

  CHARGE

  When she returned with her tawny dogs, the sun had inched toward the treetops. Daniel awoke with a jolt as the dogs jumped from the canoe, greeting them with sniffing and yipping, kicking up clouds of sand. Hal shot to his feet, petting the dogs and reaching to help her with the canoe. Daniel rose slowly, testing his injured leg. Its solid strength surprised him.

  Hal knelt by the wriggling dogs, who leapt around him. “How do you tell Nip from Tuck?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t try. Nip has one white toe, but usually it’s dirty and you can’t tell them apart. They both answer to either name, and they’re always together. My oldest brother, William, helped me train them.” She snapped her fingers, and they settled down on the grass.

  Now she was dressed, and Daniel noticed Hal surveying her. He did, too. Couldn’t help himself. She was fresh as sunshine in a simple navy skirt with a half-inch of white eyelet ruffle showing at the hem. A white blouse, also of eyelet, covered most of her arms and shoulders. Dressed, she seemed younger, and to Daniel she still appeared more beautiful than any woman he’d ever seen. Her skin, her hair, even her teeth radiated health and beauty. The thought made him chuckle to himself. When have I ever used the word ‘healthy’ to describe a girl? Her long, dark braid had been tied with a red grosgrain ribbon, and she wore no shoes. He dragged his eyes from her toes. Even her toes were perfect.

  She noticed his attention and pointed out the red ribbon. “Today is the 4th of July, but I don’t have a flag,” she said, carrying cotton sacks and baskets to the table-sized rock by the fire. “My red, white, and blue will have to do.”

  She gestured for Daniel to sit on the big rock, then lifted the edge of his bandage and sniffed the wound again. She indicated the large wicker hamper, still in the canoe. “Gentlemen, fresh clothes and everything you need to clean yourselves is in the basket. Take it out of my sight and bathe.” From her pocket she pulled the bottle of thick yellow liquid and handed it to Daniel. “When you’re clean and dry, rub the salve around the wound again. I put some clean bandages in the hamper. Tie them loosely.”

  She stood and pointed toward the shorter waterfall. “If you’re up to moving a little, there’s a wonderful pool at the bottom of Forty Foot Falls.” She pinched her nose dramatically and puffed out her breath. “You both are filthy, and you smell even worse. Wash out your clothes. I’ll mend your trousers before you leave. Those,” she said, glancing back at the hamper, “are my brothers’ things. They should fit. While you bathe, I’ll fix supper.”

  Suddenly all of her face smiled, transforming itself with dimples, crinkles, and dancing eyes. “I believe the three of us deserve a feast. After all, it’s the 4th of July. May I dip into your supply of coffee?”

  Close to an hour later, the men returned to the fireside, where Summer Rose knelt by the pots and pans. She almost didn’t recognize them. “Good grief! All that grime hid two decent-looking men. I must tell you, gentlemen, you looked a little frightening before.”

  She sniffed deeply and giggled. They smelled much better, too. They must have been liberal in their use of the Bay Rum bottle she tucked in the hamper.

  The week before she’d noticed their looks, but hadn’t been able to quite get past her wariness. Now she looked them over more carefully, studying their faces while keeping hers as smooth as a pan of cream. They were both tall, over six feet. Lean, maybe a little too thin. Hal had dark hair, sparkling blue eyes, and sported long, dark sideburns that matched his thick eyebrows. Daniel was blond and wore a thick and trimmed, sun-bleached moustache. His eyebrows were almost white. Both men had rock hard bodies, easy smiles, and good teeth.

  But Daniel, well, even the hint of Daniel’s smile took her breath away. When his eyes, clear and green as river ice, locked on hers, her heart raced so hard it hurt. She remembered the moment when his big hand had swallowed hers, and she could almost feel the calloused warmth of his palm again.

  The men shrugged. They’d been in military school since the age of twelve. Now they were in the Grand Army of the Potomac, they knew how to kit themselves out. They had scrubbed and shaved, clipped each other’s hair, and trimmed the back of the other’s neck. To be out of their heavy wool uniforms and dressed in rolled up, blue work pants and rough shirts, they knew they smelled and looked better than they had last week, when they had first encountered the lake.

  Despite their outward appearance, they were army officers to the bone. Even in their bare feet, they stood and moved like soldiers. They hung their wet things over low bushes and leaned their boots against the back of a big pine. Daniel noticed her holding a cup of coffee, so he poured Hal and himself some then sat on a boulder as she balanced a large skillet over the fire.

  “Thank you. You gave us everything we needed. And whatever is in your salve worked magic. My leg feels strong. How long should I leave in the stitches?”

  “A week? Ten days? You’ll be able to tell. Just snip them. Keep putting salve on it. I’d like to check it again tomorrow. It’s not deep, but we’ll be careful.”

  He nodded toward the fire. He hadn’t eaten for at least a day and a half, and the aromas rising from the skillet twisted cramps in his growling stomach. “Can I help you?”

  Smiling, she shook her head and expertly turned the sizzling slices of ham, adding cut up potatoes, green beans, and onions to the mixture. His mouth ached as he watched her cover the pan with a lid. He gestured with his chin toward another deep, covered skillet sitting on a tripod of stones.

  “Biscuits?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She pointed to a basket sitting further back on the rocks. “Would one of you get the bowl of salad greens out of the basket for me? The lettuce is from my garden, I found the watercress by the stream, and there’s a jar of dressing in there. Jars of honey and butter, too.”

  Hal handed her the entire basket. “A salad? I haven’t eaten salad in months.”

  She set the bowl and jars on a low, flat rock which she’d covered with a faded blue and white checkered tablecloth. Tin plates and bowls, glasses, silverware, and napkins also sat on the makeshift table, along with an open bottle of red wine. She’d even added a little bouquet of white snapdragons and red zinnias, arranged in a blue and white cup beside two fat candles.

  “I haven’t cooked for anyone except the dogs and me for a lot longer.”

  She must have sensed Daniel watching her, for she turned and lit his heart with her smile. “My garden’s my pride and joy. The tomatoes have started …” She removed the skillet from the heat, raised the lid, and threw in a jarful of chopped herbs and spices. With a sure hand, she jiggled the skillet and replaced the lid, then set it on a nearby rock. As she tossed the biscuits into the cloth-lined basket, she asked, “Would one of you light the candles? Oh, Hal, would you please add the dressing to the salad? And pour the wine?” She frowned. “You like wine, don’t you?”

  Daniel set about taking care of her requests, though questions bounced about in his head. This girl was an enigma. How old was she? With her clothes on she might be fourteen, maybe seventeen in her camisole and bloomers. And now she’s offering wine? Where did her poise come from? Why had she corralled them on this island? To keep them safe from marauding rebels? To keep her safe from the two of them?

  He set the salad on the table, still surprised by such sophistication. To find a girl anywhere who was equally at ease in either her underwear or a proper dress …

  Before servin
g the plates, she reached to her ankle and hauled out her Bowie knife to slice the ham steak. He’d almost forgotten about the knife, her speed and expertise with it. He watched her spoon sauce onto the ham, then place the knife next to her plate.

  “Delicious!” Hal exclaimed. “What spices did you use on the ham?”

  “I use a mixture of rosemary, thyme, chives, garlic, and some hot paprika my grandmother sent me. She has a Hungarian housekeeper who gets it from her sister in Budapest. They live in Philadelphia.”

  “What are your grandparents’ names?” asked Daniel, cutting a piece of ham.

  “Martha and Ralph Fitzmartin.”

  Daniel sat a little straighter. “You’ve heard of the Fitzmartins, Hal. Fitzmartin Hall, north of the city. It’s out near Chestnut Hill and Fort Washington.”

  Hal nodded absently and spooned more sauce on his ham. “I love this sauce. It tastes sweet, tart, and spicy.”

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “Brown sugar, vinegar, and paprika.”

  Daniel clung to little tidbits of information. “He’s into lumber, coal, and something with canals and the railroads, right?”

  Summer Rose shrugged and sipped the wine. She’d finished one glass and was starting her second. “Lumber, yes. I don’t know about the other things. I remember hearing about a canal and a toll road. Do you want more potatoes? I grew those, you know. I think I overcooked the beans. Are they still good?”