“Only with Clay,” she didn’t bother to deny it. “After I decided he was the one. Did Hecubah make you drink that awful potion?”
Ceci nodded, “Vile, ain’t it? Worth it though.”
“Saved my reputation more than once,” Celeste admitted.
“Dear Lord,” Ceci pressed the back of her hand to her face. “I swear you could fry bacon on my cheeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if the men could see me glowing from all the way over there.”
They looked out to where Trent and Clay stood talking in the distance. They glanced up and waved.
“You see,” Celeste leaned into Ceci, indicating Clay. “A real southern gentleman. Looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, but once he’s in the bedroom…” she paused suggestively.
“Then what?” Ceci prompted, all agog.
“Like a wild animal,” she mouthed at her.
“I’d never have imagined,” Ceci gasped, clasping a hand to her breast, staring at the hapless man whose character they took such delight in assassinating.
“What about Trent?” Celeste was eager to know.
Ceci gazed across the lawn at him, sighing heavily.
“I know that feeling,” Celeste sounded impressed. “I’ll tell you another thing,” she whispered in Ceci’s ear. “When you’re pregnant, it just keeps getting better and better.”
Ceci’s mouth fell open. “You don’t say,” she shivered.
Celeste flicked open her fan and fluttered it in front of her face. “All this talk is heating my blood,” she confessed. “I’m going back into the house and find myself a cool glass of lemonade.”
Ceci chewed her lip, unable to take her eyes off Trent. “I guess I’d better go down to the bayou,” she muttered to herself. “And throw myself in.”
Chapter Twelve
Ceci didn’t throw herself in the bayou, but perhaps she should have done. The nature of her conversation with Celeste stayed with her all day. It obsessed her every thought, further enflaming her mood. That night Trent took the brunt of it.
“Let’s do it again,” she panted insatiably, crouching over him and pinning him to the bed.
“Straight away?” he stared in astonishment. “There’s only so much flesh and blood can stand. What’s got into you?”
“Only you,” she tightened her grip on him.
“Oh, now I remember,” he recalled. “I saw you talking to Celeste this morning. What’s she been telling you?”
“Nothing I didn’t know already,” she flashed her eyes at him.
“Did you two compare my performance to Clay’s,” he guessed.
“What if we did?” she dug her nails into his shoulders.
“Are you trying to kill me?” he winced.
Ceci wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “At least you’ll die happy,” she told him.
When they came down to breakfast, in the morning, Celeste and Mrs Sinclaire were already at the table. Ceci bounced in, full of the joys of life, whilst Trent seemed tired and somewhat out of sorts.
“What’s the matter, son?” his mother enquired, with concern. “You look a little peaked. Did you have a hard night?”
Ceci and Celeste began to snigger.
“Did I say something funny?” Mrs Sinclaire asked.
“No, Mother,” Trent did his best to ignore them. “I think I’m missing the army.”
Celeste looked at Ceci, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
Ceci held up three fingers.
Celeste’s eyes widened. “Careful honey,” she whispered. “You don’t want to kill him before the wedding.”
The passage of time was relentless, steadily eroding the days she had left with Trent. She raged against it, as if it were an unjust penalty, an exorbitantly high price she was constantly forced to pay for just a few moments happiness. What made it worse was all the uncertainty that surrounded her. She thought she might feel better, if she could only find out what was truly going on.
There were two influential men in the house, her father and Colonel Sinclaire, as well as Trent and Clay. They had discussed everything under the sun, but none of them had ever touched upon what was happening in the country. Doubtless, it was a matter of courtesy, not to raise a contentious subject, but their reticence only served to frustrate and infuriate her. Finally, she decided to take matters into her own hands and, that night at dinner, she put the question directly to Colonel Sinclaire.
“Is there going to be a war between the states?” she blurted across the table.
The room fell silent.
“Cecile,” her father cautioned, “now is not the time.”
“No, no,” Colonel Sinclaire disagreed, ever indulgent where Ceci was concerned. “She has a right to be concerned about her future.” He looked directly at her. “I can tell you that there are a great many men arguing for division, but there are also other men, like myself and your father, who are constantly seeking a peaceful settlement. More than that is impossible to say now. However, I give you my word, as an officer and a gentleman, that no matter what happens, you will always be welcome as a member of my family.” He looked away, addressing the entire gathering. “At times, like this,” he suggested, “we must rely on courage and faith. Courage in the face of adversity, and faith in the belief that this situation will resolve itself in time.”
That night it was a rather subdued Ceci that lay in Trent’s arms. “Did I make a fool of myself tonight?” she asked.
“Of course not,” he reassured her. “But you’re asking for answers no one has now.”
“We’ve only two days left,” she reminded him.
“We’ve discussed this already,” he told her firmly. “You always knew I’d have to leave again. We all will. My father has his business and I have my duties. It’ll only be a few months before we’re together again. Try and be patient for just a little longer.”
Patience was a virtue Ceci seldom aspired to. “Take me with you,” she pleaded.
“Oh, Ceci, I only wish I could,” he sighed. “But I think your father would shoot me, and if he didn’t, I know mine certainly would.”
“I found some more books in the library,” she thought it worth mentioning. “Even Hecubah don’t know about them.” She pressed herself closer against him. “You’d shoot yourself, if you knew what you were missing.”
***
Another day fell off the calendar. The old year was dying. After dinner, they all gathered in the parlour once more to welcome the new year in. As Ceci considered each and every smiling face, that awful feeling, that this time was the last time, reasserted itself. There was no accounting for it. It was just an impression she had.
It hung, like a pall over the gathering. She hated it. She hated herself for thinking it. The premonitions might have plagued her all night, if Trent hadn’t come to the rescue.
At a quarter to the hour, he rose, took Ceci by the hand and drew her into the centre of the room. As everyone watched, he drew a small black box from his pocket. “Ceci, I have something else for you,” he told her. “I didn’t give it to you at Christmas, because it’s not that kind of a gift.” He opened the box and took out a gold ring, encrusted with diamonds. He lifted Ceci’s hand and slipped it onto her finger. “With this engagement ring,” he continued earnestly. “I pledge you my life and my love. As the new year dawns, it will be our year. The year we will be married.”
Ceci stared at the ring, speechless.
“I hope you like it,” he continued hesitantly, a little concerned over her silence. “Mother helped me choose it, after she kicked me in the behind for not thinking of it in the first place.”
Ceci promptly broke down in a flood of tears. Hecubah came over and drew her aside, while the rest of the women clustered around her, all wanting to see the ring.
T
rent looked at his mother, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. “I thought it would make her happy,” he told her.
She put her hand on his arm. “It has, Son,” she smiled. “Can’t you see? It has.”
Trent looked at Ceci. She was still crying. So was Celeste now and Hecubah had just started. He turned to his father. “Do you understand women?” he asked.
Colonel Sinclaire shook his head. “No,” he shrugged philosophically. “There’s no understanding them, Son. You just love them, that’s all.”
Ceci recovered just in time to toast the new year in. Trent raised his glass to her. “To us,” he smiled, his blue eyes washing over her, like ocean waves.
Ceci couldn’t bear to share such a special moment with anyone but him. “Take me into the garden,” she entreated.
As more champagne corks began to pop, they excused themselves from the party and stepped outside.
“Look,” Ceci pointed, “it’s a crescent moon, just like the one we first made love under.”
“How could I ever forget,” he replied, taking her hand.
Ceci turned and looked at him. “Let’s go to our secret place,” she suggested.
“There’s an awful lot of people back there,” he nodded at the house. “Some of them might come out.”
“I don’t mean for that,” she clarified her intention. “I just want to be alone with you there, one more time, before we’re married.”
Happy to indulge her, he followed her through the shadows, across the garden and down to their secret place. They sat on the bank of the bayou, arms around each other, gazing up at the moon. All around them crickets hummed and bullfrogs called from the reed beds, as the emerald waters of the Atchafalaya flowed gently by.
“I think this is what Heaven must be like,” Ceci sighed.
“I can’t imagine Heaven with bullfrogs,” Trent replied.
“I’m sure they have souls to,” she decided. “They have to go somewhere when they die.”
“I thought they just sank to the bottom of the river,” he teased.
“Stop that,” she admonished him.
He pulled her closer to him, kissing her lips, drawing her gently down onto the grass.
She pressed her hands against his chest, holding him back. “There’s an awful lot of people up there,” she reminded him of his own words. “Some of them might come out.”
This time it was Trent who wouldn’t take no for an answer. “If Hecubah can’t find this place,” he persisted. “I doubt anyone else will.”
“You’re forgetting,” she continued to resist him, waving the engagement ring in front of his face. “I’m an engaged woman now.”
He brushed her hand aside, pushing her down to the ground. “Never stopped you before,” he recalled.
***
They had celebrated Christmas together and toasted the new year in. Now the time had come for them to go their separate ways. The fact that everyone was leaving at the same time as Trent, softened the blow for Ceci, but it was a blow nonetheless. They assembled in the salon to say their farewells, exchanging hugs and kisses, each pair discreetly withdrawing from the room, until Ceci and Trent were left conveniently alone.
Ceci suspected it was another, albeit, minor, conspiracy contrived by her family, but there was nothing she could do about it now. There were only a few things that could put her into an obstinate frame of mind, not getting her own way was one of them. She desperately wanted Trent to stay, or take her with him. Neither of which were going to happen, at least, not this time.
Without a word, Trent took her hand and walked over to an armchair. He sat down, perching her on his knee.
“I ain’t a baby,” she objected moodily.
He put his arms around her waist, settling her on his lap. “Of course, you are,” he dismissed her meagre protest.
Ceci hadn’t the will to argue.
“Now, what did we agree?” he asked.
Ceci remained silent, hands clenched in her lap, refusing to look at him.
He put his hand under her chin and turned her head round. “Well?” he persisted quietly.
Ceci heaved a huge sigh. “I ain’t going to worry. I aint going to panic,” she recited tonelessly. “I’ll eat properly and sleep well.”
“And?” he prompted gently.
Ceci sighed again. “And I ain’t going to drive Hecubah crazy.”
“She particularly asked me to remind you of that,” he told her. He leaned forward, his cheek brushing hers. “Now, we both know none of that’s going to happen,” he deduced correctly, “but I have an idea that might help.”
His remark peaked Ceci’s interest. She began to pay attention.
He took the picture she’d had made for him from his breast pocket. “From now on,” he explained, “no matter where I am or what I’m doing, I shall look at your picture each evening at nine o’clock, and think only of you. If you do the same, it won’t feel as if we’re so far apart.”
Ceci nodded. It was little enough, but better than nothing.
“What are we going to do now?” he asked softly.
Ceci’s face lit up. “We could sneak out the back door, find the nearest minister, and get married,” she deviated wildly from the plan they’d discussed.
Trent was determined to be patient with her. He waited.
Ceci’s shoulders slumped. “I’m going to say goodbye to you,” she sighed again, reluctantly returning to the plan. “I’m going to behave like a lady, conducting myself with dignity and composure, as befits the future wife of an officer. I’m going to make you proud.”
“I’m sure you will,” he encouraged her.
They shared a kiss that was the sweetest Ceci had ever tasted. She clung to him, wanting it to go on forever, but, in the end, she had to let him go.
***
“Imagine,” Celeste smiled, as she prepared to leave. “The next time I say goodbye to you on these steps, you’ll be a married woman.”
Ceci caught her breath, a pang of anxiety clutching at her heart, afraid that her sister’s words might tempt providence, but she made light of it. “Next time,” she placed her hand on Celeste’s bulge. “You’ll be carrying that in your arms.”
“I never had a daughter before,” Mrs Sinclaire told her. “I’m so glad it’s going to be you.”
“Remember, child,” Colonel Sinclaire took her hand and touched his lips against it, the soft strands of his moustache brushing her fingers. “Courage and faith. Trent’s a good man. He won’t let you down.”
She put her hands on his shoulders, reached up and kissed his cheek. Then she turned to face Trent.
For a moment, she just stood there, drinking him in, wondering if she could, by some superhuman effort of will, hold him there. Transfix this moment in time, so that they might remain together forever, realising, even as she considered it, that if time stood still, what would be the point.
She ran over to him, threw her arms around his waist, crushing him to her, until he gasped. “Come back to me,” she sobbed. “Whatever happens, please come back to me.”
He cupped her face in his hands, looking down at her. “You know I will,” he promised. “Even if the moon falls from the sky.”
The blue of his eyes matched Heaven’s vault. Her soul took flight, tumbling through eternity, until the touch of his lips brought her back to earth. He eased himself away from her and, after a last lingering look, climbed into the carriage.
As they started down the drive, Ceci clenched her left hand into a fist, digging her fingernails into the palm and continued to wave with her right. She even managed to smile, but as soon as they had driven out of sight, she dashed up to her room, locked the door, and cried all day. She would have cried all night, if Hecubah hadn’t threatened to call Joshua and break the door down
.
***
To her surprise, Ceci discovered that Trent’s idea worked better than she’d imagined. Each evening at nine o’clock, she looked at his picture, knowing that he was looking at hers, and for a few moments each day, it didn’t feel as if they were far apart at all. Sometimes, she’d count the months off on her fingers. There was some of January, all of February and March, and most of April. She drew solace from the fact that it was only four fingers.
Courage and faith, Colonel Sinclaire had said. She took his words to heart. They strengthened her. Every day that passed was one less day to wait. Gradually, the pain of separation eased. Her impatience was replaced by optimism and she began to look to the future with a renewed sense of excitement.
***
Trent had only been gone a week, before Mississippi followed South Carolina and seceded from the Union. It continued right through the month with Florida, Alabama and Georgia. The southern states shedding from the Union, like autumn leaves falling from a great tree. January was almost spent, before Louisiana, her home state, joined the others in secession.
She didn’t share the elation her compatriots displayed. All she felt was an overwhelming sense of isolation and foreboding. The unthinkable had happened. The Union had torn itself apart. She began to wonder if courage and faith would be enough to sustain her now.
Chapter Thirteen
“The southern states are in rebellion,” Ceci read aloud. “Does that make me a rebel?” she asked, looking up from the newspaper.
“Honey, you was that long before anyone thought of secession,” Hecubah told her.
“I’m serious,” Ceci insisted. “I want to know what’s going on. All these papers are saying different things. Mostly they contradict each other.”
“That’s the trouble with opinion,” Hecubah advised her. “Depends on who you talk to.”
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