“She left you a note.”
He snatched it, read it then fell to his knees beside her chair. He lifted Hank, kissed his tiny forehead, and held him while tears welled in his own eyes. After a moment he stood and placed his son in the cradle, rocked him until he settled, then knelt by Summer. He took her hands.
“I’m so sorry, Hal. She—”
“Summer, I don’t know how to tell you …”
Her pulse suddenly raced. He hadn’t come about Fanny. From the look on his face, he’d had not understood her letter.
“Danny’s dead,” he said, his voice cracking with grief. “Mosby hanged him in retaliation for what Custer ….”
She stared at him, saying nothing, she couldn’t breathe.
He reached in his tunic and pulled out the packet of her letters, Daniel’s diary, her picture, and she adjusted her stare so it focused on the little treasures.
She felt nothing. Heard nothing. A numbness crept through her hands and feet, grasping for her heart. With her little finger she touched the pale blue ribbon—it was one of her hair ribbons. She remembered the night he’d taken it. “To tie up your letters,” he had said. Her eyes blurred. She didn’t blink, didn’t move. Her mouth opened and closed, opened again, like a dying fish gasping for life.
“No-o-o.”
The letters spilled onto the floor, and she crumbled with them, attempting to gather them up, but her hands didn’t work. She collapsed into a heap and didn’t move. It was as if a knife had stuck her. She quieted and he picked her up, her breath warm on his cheek. He carried her to the bed she shared with Daniel and arranged her on the quilt. He scooped up the letters and set them on the rocking chair, then removed her slippers. She startled, curled into a ball, then started to shake and sob. Hal sat next to her, rubbing her back. After a moment, he ran outside, returning with his jacket and a flask. He uncorked the bottle and held it to her lips. She spluttered and coughed but took a long draught. All the while, he stroked her arm, talked to her. His voice was soothing, so he kept talking. She took another long swig of whiskey.
“That’s a girl,” he said. “We’re a pair aren’t we?” He laughed derisively. “I’m not really surprised Fanny left me.” He took a drink and handed her the flask. “You know what surprises me? She didn’t take Hank.”
Summer Rose sat up, and he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her tears. She slumped against him and sobbed while his hand rubbed circles on her back. She leaned into his shirt and cried harder. Every inch of her trembled and she couldn’t speak. He held out the flask. She took it.
“I came as soon as I could. I didn’t want you to read it in the papers. The correspondents are right there at headquarters … Danny’s death will be big news. They wire their stories, and I know Ezra brings over the papers early.” Tears slid down his face and he choked. She felt it shudder through him. “Danny. Not Danny. I can’t believe it.”
Her sobs were tight little convulsions now. He took the flask, drank, corked it, then laid it down beside her.
“I never deserved Fanny. I just didn’t love her enough to keep her.” He shook his head. “I never saw a man love a woman like Daniel loved you.”
CHAPTER 37
BETRAYAL
Hal hated himself, but his thoughts leapt to months, even a year or so, down the road. He’d ask Summer Rose to marry him. Guilt at his disloyalty to Danny rolled over him, but the thoughts came anyway. Fanny was the farthest thing from his mind.
Summer took his handkerchief, sat up for a moment and blew her nose, then took another drink of the whiskey and slid back down into the crook of his arm. She tried to speak, but couldn’t. The words were swallowed up by sobs as they started up again. He rubbed her arm and let his lips rest in her hair. She didn’t notice.
Daniel stumbled into the picket line. What was left of his uniform was in shreds and hung off him like rags. The sleeves and shoulder straps had been ripped off, his trousers were in tatters, and his bare and bloody feet resembled raw meat.
A Yankee guard backed him up against a tree and stuck a rifle in his gut. Daniel didn’t know the password. It had been changed.
Another guard walked over. “Colonel Charteris?” He helped Daniel sit on the tailgate of a cart. “Your horse came in by himself earlier, Sir. Good to see you, Sir.” Another soldier threw a blanket over Daniel’s shoulders.
Daniel had managed to pick loose the ropes binding his hands, but his wrists bled and burned. He had no idea how far he’d run through the forest.
“Sir, we heard Mosby hanged you.”
His breath came out in ragged lungfuls. “Damned near did. He sure as hell tried,” he managed to say. “The rain came down so hard ... helped me get away from the dogs. I slipped off the horse and ran into the woods. The rain covered my trail. Can you help me mount a horse? I need to get to headquarters.”
General Sheridan’s sergeant woke him. The general took one look at Daniel and sent for Ray. He sat Daniel at his dining room table and went over the map, inch by inch. While Daniel told of the horrors of Mosby’s camp, Ray cleaned up his feet and the rope burns on his wrists. Gravel was embedded in his ankle.
“I slid down an embankment,” he explained. “They shot Love and Rhodes. The other twenty prisoners are already on their way to Libby or Andersonville. While I hid in the water, I overheard them say one other man escaped. I didn’t hear his name. They said Mosby was glad we’d escaped. We’d frighten the rest of the Yankees with our stories.”
Daniel looked around. “Where’s Hal?”
“Sergeant Boyle said he went to tell your wife. Left a few hours ago,” said Colonel Banion.
Daniel turned to General Sheridan. “Sir, I must go. I’ll be back tomorrow. I can’t let her think I’m dead.”
Ray chuckled and so did some of the others. “You’d better let him go, General. He’ll take French leave if you don’t.”
Sheridan nodded. “Eat something first.” To Colonel Banion he said, “Wake up George and have him fix Danny one of those good steaks and some eggs, and some of his bread. Pack some food for him, too.” He apprised the room. “Would a couple of you go to his quarters and get this man another uniform? Go to supply for some boots. He needs a sidearm, too.”
“I suppose you want Chester. That horse came back to our stables a few nights ago. Sergeant Landon cleaned him up.” Sheridan smiled at the expression on Daniel’s face. Most cavalrymen loved horses. Chester was a favorite. “That horse probably knows the way home.” He smiled at Daniel. “You’d better shave, too. Don’t want to scare that pretty little girl of yours anymore than she’s already been scared.”
An hour later, fed, dressed, armed, shaved, and somewhat clean, Daniel rode north, pressing Chester hard.
How long he slept, he didn’t know. He awoke into a half-sleep, holding Summer Rose, who still jerked with heart-wrenching sobs. The enormity of Fanny’s departure had started to sink into his brain. How am I going to manage a baby by myself? The very first second he’d held his son, Hal’s heart had opened like a flower. Everything he’d ever wanted, good or bad, weighed against this child. He might not be the best soldier in the Union Army, he definitely wasn’t the best husband, but he knew he’d be a wonderful father. His ambition soared. He promised himself he’d clean up his life. No more wild women or reckless antics.
Hal closed his eyes. In his mind, he reread Fanny’s long letter. He’d always possessed an eidetic mind, able to memorize long passages with ease. He’d been too dazed with the news about Daniel to really pay attention to it, but now guilt clutched at his core. She thinks I’m a bastard. Well, I am a bastard I can’t even count all the times I’ve cheated on her.
His mind’s eye again saw the heavy blue vellum and the ink smeared from her tears. In the letter, Fanny had said she couldn’t stay here. She’d die of hurt. “We weren’t married by a priest. I don’t even have the blessing of the church. I don’t feel married.” He could hear her sobs as she wrote. “I miss Paris and Papa. I’m afraid my
grandmamma will die.”
Summer shook against his chest, still not awake. He closed his eyes and brought the blue vellum, puckered with Fanny’s tears, back into his mind again. “I am not ready to be a mother,” she’d written. “You’ll be a better father than I a mother. I can’t manage a baby all the way to Europe.” He cringed as his mind read the final paragraph. The puckers and smears increased. “I saw, Hal, how you followed her with your eyes. You murmured her name in your sleep. If you just once looked at me like you looked at Summer Rose, maybe I could bear it.” Further down in a post script she’d written. “Hal, for your own good, take your son, and get away from her. She’s Daniel’s wife. I’ve never seen her do a thing to encourage you. She’s my friend; Daniel is yours. She only loves him.”
He pulled Summer closer. How many friends and classmates had died? The loss of Danny tore out his heart. The thought of leaving Summer ripped a hole deeper into his chest and tears came to his eyes. As if he’d spoken, Summer turned in his arms. Her lush body pressed into his, and her hand brushed his wet cheek. He kissed her palm.
“I’m so sorry about Fanny,” she croaked.
Fanny barely crossed his mind. The idea of leaving Summer Rose threatened to suck out his heart. Her hair had come loose and now fell across his arm. He brushed it away from her face. She hiccoughed loudly and asked for another drink of whiskey. He handed it to her; she emptied the flask. He reached into his jacket pocket and uncorked another.
Blackness surrounded her; the pit loomed, bottomless. A wave of heat swept over her and she threw off the covers, rolling onto her stomach. She couldn’t imagine living without Daniel; she didn’t want to live without him. He is my heart, my life, repeated over and over in her mind, like a Gregorian chant. He is my heart, my life. He is my heart …
She must have fallen asleep, because when she awoke, soft lips kissed her. The kisses comforted. They stopped the shudders and the horrible gasps. They even stopped the bed from spinning. The heat … God, she’d die from the heat. Their skin sought and found each other. His hands on her naked skin … so good … so cool.
CHAPTER 38
ON THE ISLAND
Daniel found them naked.
She sensed him more than saw him, but once she opened her swollen eyes she flew to him, still unaware of where she was or what was happening around her. She threw her arms around his neck, overcome by the rush of emotion. She couldn’t speak.
But Daniel untangled her arms roughly and shoved her so that she slammed back against Hal, then he left.
Why did he do that? Where’s he going?
She glanced down at her body, then at Hal. He was as naked as she was. The reality of the situation struck her as if she’d been slapped. She grabbed her nightgown, stumbling after Daniel, pulling the simple white cotton gown over her head as she ran. The moon was full and high; huge, silver clipper ship clouds barreled across the night sky. She saw him through the kitchen window as he stepped into the canoe.
Behind her, Hal hopped into the kitchen, pulling on his trousers. “Let me talk to him. I know Daniel. He might ...”
She could see the canoe plowing toward the island. Each stroke of the paddle lifted the tip of the canoe out of the water. Her head ached and whirled. “You stay with Hank. Oh God, Hal! How? How did my clothes come off? Did I do that?”
She leaned over a bucket and threw up. Hal handed her water, but his eyes didn’t meet hers. She rinsed her mouth, spit into the bucket, then gulped the water and wiped her mouth on a towel. Her heart beat wildly. “Tell me we didn’t do anything … anything else.”
He shook his head. “Christ, Summer. I don’t know. I’m still drunk.”
She leaned over the bucket again and threw up. She lifted her head. “Stay with the baby. You might have to milk the goat.”
“How in the hell do you milk a goat?”
“You’re a grown man. Figure it out.”
She ran out the door and through the garden. She dove into the cool, fresh water. Her fast, even strokes raced to the island
He beached the canoe and collapsed on a patch of dry grass. Rage boiled inside his head; his heart pounded, deafening as battle drums. His hands ached to grab Hal, to bash his face to a pulp. He dropped his head into his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, wishing he could think. The picture of them in the bed wouldn’t leave his mind. His breath came in ragged lungfuls, and his feet hurt. He pulled off his boots and his bloody socks, then unbuckled his belt and holster and put both beside his boots. When he fell back, the moonlight flooded over him, the lake, the island. He closed his eyes and felt exhaustion and rage swamp inside him; his chest threatened to explode. Somewhere in his mind he thought if he slept he might be able to handle his rage.
He heard a splash and sat up with a jerk. She emerged from the water, looking more sensual than she ever had before. Moonlight lit her; the wet white cloth clung to her body, hiding nothing. She was a goddess. His voice snapped, hoarse and hard, and he held both his hands up, palms out. “Stop. This island isn’t big enough for us both. Go back.”
She crumpled at his feet, sobbing. “He told me you were dead. Oh God, Daniel. I went out of my mind. Hal comforted me. I was so frightened … I got drunk. I wanted to die. I didn’t know what to do. You are my life, Daniel.”
His voice dripped with fury. “You could have fooled me. Go back.”
“Daniel, he gave me your diary, my letters. He told me John Mosby hanged you. Fanny left Hal.” Her voice lifted an octave. “She’s on her w-way to Paris and she left the baby here. I must have fallen asleep. I was drunk. He’s devastated.”
Daniel’s voice roared and she cringed, squeezing her eyes shut. “The only goddamn thing Hal is devastated about is that I walked into that room.”
Each word slammed her like a punch, and worse, a fear coiled in her belly. Nausea rose in her throat again and she looked down. She noticed his bloody feet and gasped, reaching for him.
He held up one hand. “Don’t touch me.”
She dropped her hand onto his ankle and he grabbed her like a mountain lion might grab one of her goats. This man wasn’t Daniel; he was some wild beast. She’d always known of his strength, but she’d never experienced it used against her. He ripped off her little white nightgown, shredding it in one powerful movement, then slammed her beneath him, knocking the wind out of her, hurting her, driving his body into hers. The suddenness and the force frightened her, took her breath away.
When he finished, he collapsed like a man drugged, pinning her to the dry grass. She was unable to move; his brass buttons cut into her skin, but it was her insides that felt torn open. She squeezed hot tears out of her eyes.
She could tell by the rhythm of his breathing that he slept. More sobs threatened as pain twisted and burned inside her. She willed the sobs away and concentrated on not throwing up, watching the great clouds sail across the sky. She listened to the flutter of the owls’ wings as they hunted, the rhythm of Daniel’s breath.
Somehow she ignored the pain. Here was Daniel, her beloved Daniel. An hour before, she had thought he was dead. Oh God, thank you for returning him to me. The steady thump of his heart beat against her chest and a shudder rippled through her. She squirmed and wiggled, freeing an arm, which she wrapped around his shoulder. She kissed his neck. His rough beard scraped her face. Tears ran from the corners of her eyes. Eventually, even with his buttons biting into her skin, she fell asleep.
He shifted his weight off her, and she shivered in the chill and dampness of morning. The sky, pink and pale yellow, reflected in the lake. A lone eagle, his enormous wings dipping and gliding, circled low over the water, then screeched and plummeted for a fish. Daniel looked down at her body and ran a finger over one of the marks where his buttons had dug into her flesh. His gaze shifted to the shredded nightgown, and he stood in the pearly light so he could remove his blue shirt. He threw it at her and she jumped a little.
“Put it on.” His tone was curt, hard like it had been last night,
and it sliced into her heart. He picked up his revolver, holster, and boots, then stuffed his socks in them and put everything in the canoe.
Tears streamed down her face. That he’d hurt her was one thing; that he cared so little for her feelings hurt far more. She didn’t know how to react to his anger. A shudder ran through her. Her nightgown lay where he’d thrown it, and she picked it up, her hand trembling. Never before had she seen anyone so angry. Holes made by his fingers spoke of the strength he’d used to rip it from her. She pressed the torn, wet material to her chest, keeping her head down, and her face turned away to hide her tears.
He walked to the canoe and shoved it into the water just as the sun burst through the trees, slashing light across the lake. He rotated his shoulders as if to loosen his joints, then turned toward her. With his upper body naked, she could see the muscles of his chest and arms distended with rage.
“Sit up front.” His voice snapped like a hard slap.
She did as he said and sat facing forward with her eyes closed, her hands clutching the gunnels. Her head throbbed. With a lurch, he pushed off from the shore. Every powerful thrust of the paddle reminded her of his strength. Her chest tightened, and she forced herself to turn around.
She wiped her face with the tattered material, looked at him, and held her eyes steady. “Daniel, I don’t deserve this treatment.”
His pale green eyes drilled into her. His look could have shattered foot thick ice. He laid the paddle across the gunnels.
“Let us review, sweetheart.”
Each word, clipped and tight with sarcasm, flew like bullets into her heart. She tasted fear.
“I am almost hanged. I escape as they throw the rope over the tree limb. I run. I run miles in my bare feet. I hide in a cold stream while they hunt me with bloodhounds. I hear the dogs sniffing at my footprints. Then I ride for seven hours, almost ruining a horse I dearly love, so you wouldn’t think I’d been killed. Instead, I find you and Hal, drunk and naked in bed. What do you think you deserve?”
Summer Rose Page 20