Memphis

by Sara Orwig

  “The Fourth of July came and went with no celebration by loyal Confederates,” Rafe said.

  “Your brother shot his share of firecrackers today,” Amity said, glancing at Darcy who grinned.

  “The big news in town,” Rafe said, looking at Caleb, “should interest you since all you talk about is railroads. Today President Lincoln signed the Pacific Railroad Act. I’ve heard he wants the eastern terminus to be Council Bluffs, Iowa, but that’s not settled yet.”

  “The war took it away from Memphis. It’ll be a northern route.”

  “I don’t think anything in the South will ever be the same,” Ormonde added.

  Talk swirled around them, but Caleb found it difficult to pay attention. Finally they moved from the dining room to the parlor, and he took her arm.

  “If you folks will excuse us, I’d like to take the buggy and show the Vieux Carre to Sophia. We should be safe enough if we go out at this hour.”

  “Fine,” Rafe said.

  “We can go—” Chantal said, and Rafe placed his arm across her shoulders.

  “No, we can’t. Let them go. You don’t need a bouncing buggy ride. Just be careful,” he said, looking at Caleb, who took Sophia’s arm and ushered her out of the room before Darcy or Amity said they wanted to go along.

  “Caleb, go back and ask if Darcy or Amity want to go with us.”

  “Not for the world will I go back,” he said tersely, descending the stairs. “I asked a groom to hitch up the team hours ago. Hurry, Sophia.” He helped her into the carriage and left to get a driver. In minutes he climbed in beside her and lowered the leather flaps, not caring how hot it became inside.

  “Finally, I have you all to myself,” he said, pulling her onto his lap, her bottom soft on his legs.

  “Caleb, I’ll be all wrinkled!”

  “Then we can solve that right now,” he said, his fingers working swiftly at her buttons while he kissed her throat. He didn’t want to go back to battle, yet he had to, and he wanted memories to take with him through the bleakness of war.

  “Caleb O’Brien! Stop that. I’ll be disheveled—”

  “I want to tell you goodbye. I have to leave, Sophia,” he said gruffly, and Sophia turned to look at him. The horses’ hooves clopped on the cobblestones and the buggy swayed while her heart seemed to careen and lurch against her ribs. Fear was a suffocating blanket that suddenly took her breath. She rested her hand on his hard shoulder.

  “You’re going to war.”

  “Yes. Rafe asked me to sail with him, but I feel an obligation for both of us to fight for the Confederacy.”

  The words hurt so badly. She cried out and threw her arms around him, clinging to him. This moment in time he was hers; she ran her hands over his strong shoulders, down over the muscles in his arms. The last time together. Her lips covered his warm lips; her tongue thrust into his mouth as his arms wrapped tightly around her and he kissed her back. Her fingers worked at his cravat, tugging it free, pulling his linen shirt out of his trousers and over his head. She kissed his chest, the hairs tickling her while the buggy bounced and swayed and she felt as if every roll of the wheels took her closer to losing him.

  He pushed away her dress and silken chemise and pulled her close, stroking her while he kissed her, unfastening her drawers. Finally he eased her back on the length of the seat and moved between her legs, thrusting into her softness.

  Sophia clung to him, her hips moving as she pulled him closer, wanting to make her part of him forever. She was jammed against the seat of the rocking carriage, clinging to his hard, lean body as he thrust into her. She held him tightly in desperation.

  “Sophia! Love,” he cried as he shuddered in climax and she held him and moaned.

  “Caleb, don’t leave me,” she begged.

  Their breathing was ragged and she ran her hands over him, feeling the hard muscle, knowing she might lose him forever.

  “Caleb, I love you,” she whispered, kissing him. Finally she sat up, reaching for the dress that was a silken cloud on the floor of the buggy. “I’ll look so rumpled; it’ll be scandalous to go home.”

  “You might have to marry me, Sophia.”

  He leaned back in the carriage, his chest bare. He had pulled up his trousers and buttoned them and he reached for her. “Leave the dress. We’ll ride around until everyone at home has gone to bed and no one will see you.”

  “We’ll do no such thing. I’m not riding through the streets of New Orleans naked as a snake! Suppose someone stops us.”

  He chuckled and pushed the dress out of her hands. “No one will stop us.”

  “And we’ll go back at a decent hour. Your family is very nice and I don’t care to have them thinking I’m some sort of …”

  “They won’t.”

  “No, they won’t, Caleb, because I’m dressing and we’re going back when we should. I’ll be living with them while you’re gone.”

  “Sophia, marry me. If you’ll marry me, I’ll wait another week to go.”

  She placed her hand on his cheek. “Caleb, you and I have such battles. I love you, but this is wartime and nothing is sane and normal. And we have such differences.”

  “If you’re carrying my child—”

  “I’ll write you. And if I am, you can come home to me and we’ll wed.”

  “Then I pray you are,” he said in a husky voice. His arms tightened around her. “I want you, Sophia, and someday you’ll be mine. You and your fierce independence.”

  Her heart pounded as he kissed her and she forgot the dress, letting it slide from her hands.

  It was after midnight when she finally kissed him goodbye in the hall. She lay staring into the dark. Was she making a terrible mistake by not marrying when she loved him so completely? Yet how they fought! John and Morris certainly wouldn’t approve of Caleb. It would cause a rift in the family.

  Shortly after noon Caleb told the family goodbye. She walked to the alley behind the carriage house. She gazed into his green eyes. “Please, come back to me,” she whispered, moving into his arms, feeling terrified for his safety. He caught her up, crushing her to him to kiss her.

  He released her and mounted, riding down the alley, sitting straight and tall, his broad shoulders squared. He didn’t look back. And then he was gone. She felt as if her heart were shattering like fragile crystal against stone. “Caleb …”

  She felt swamped with loss, praying that he would be safe. Finally when she had her emotions under control, she returned to the house.

  For the rest of the day, Ormonde and Amity and Darcy showed her the Vieux Carré, taking her to a fancy restaurant, showing her shops filled with delights in spite of the war, melons at the market, the thick hot chicory that people were substituting for coffee.

  The family kept her busy, and she bought yarn to knit a blanket for Chantal’s expected baby.

  Two weeks later, Darcy ran in waving letters. “From Cal!” he exclaimed. “Here’s one for Sophia, one for you,” he said, handing it to Amity. “And one for me.”

  Everyone sat to read and Sophia went to her room to tear hers open, looking at his bold scrawl:

  My love:

  I’ve caught up with Will now, and we’ll soon be with Bragg’s forces. With a brother who is a blockade runner, I haven’t suffered privations, but the farther north we go, the worse and more desperate things are. Shoes are a precious commodity. Uniforms are patched and worn. I’m not in the fighting yet. I miss you more than I would have thought possible. I want you in my arms, Sophia. I dream of you, yearn for you, want to kiss you. Time is short, so I must close.

  All my love, Cal

  She held his letter tightly in her hand, running it against her cheek. She wiped away tears. She missed him dreadfully and she wanted to write to him and wondered if her letter would ever reach him. She unfolded the letter to hold it against her heart and remember Caleb.

  Finally she sat at the desk and wrote:

  My dearest Caleb:

  I just received you
r letter and can’t bear to think about you returning to battle and being without things you need. It is comfortable here with your family, but Rafferty has warned all of us that shortages will grow and he won’t be able to get things to us as easily as in the past. The prices are soaring now. I miss you, too, unbearably, and dream about you and think about you until I’m certain your family must think I’m daft, because I’ll think about you and forget that someone is talking to me. They are so kind and Amity has been a love, trying everything to keep me from pining for you. And she wants to know everything about Will and she looks forward to each letter from him as I do from you. Please take care of yourself and come home to me. Even though I am not carrying your child, I am ready to marry. You’ll just have to adjust to my brothers and they’ll have to adjust to you.

  All my love, Sophia.

  Two weeks later on August fourth, Sophia sat knitting with Amity. Chantal napped and they heard Rafe’s footsteps coming up the stairs.

  “You’re home early,” Amity said. “Chantal is asleep.”

  “Let her sleep. I had some business to take care of this way, so I thought I would stop at home. Sophia, if you’ll excuse Amity and me for a few minutes, I need her opinion on something,” he said as he escorted Amity from the room.

  “Of course,” she said, bending over the knitting and then stopping to look out the window, gazing north. She still missed Memphis and she felt at a loss. Here there were servants to take care of her every need and after spending years working on the paper and helping Mazie and running the household the past year, she felt restless, wanting to keep busy partly to fight the steady cold fear she had for Caleb.

  She heard Rafe returning and looked around to see him come into the parlor without Amity and close the door. She looked into his eyes when he turned around and her heart turned to stone.

  Chapter 17

  She dropped the knitting as she stood up, unaware of the ball of blue yarn unrolling away from her. She felt cold as ice and her head spun. “It’s Caleb, isn’t it?”

  Rafe stopped a few feet from her, his brow furrowed and his expression solemn. He held out a letter to her. “No. Sophia, it’s not Caleb.”

  The first wild rush of relief was gone as swiftly as it came as she looked at him and took the letter. He was too solemn.

  He took her hand and held it. “I’m sorry. It’s one of your brothers.”

  She winced as if from a blow and felt pain knot her chest. “No.”

  “Fortune sent me a letter and he has one for you. It’s your brother Morris.”

  “Morris!”

  She tore open the letter and held it with shaking hands. It was a letter within a letter. The first was from Fortune and she raced over it:

  Dear Miss Merrick:

  I have watched for any mail to you. First, let me say, your servants Henry and Mazie are with friends and they are fine. Your office is just as you left it. I’ve had one letter from Cal, and he’s fine. Now, the real reason for this letter.

  The enclosed letter is from a Major Tomlison. I regret to tell you that your brother Morris was killed in battle. I send my deepest sympathy for this great loss of yours.

  Fortune O’Brien.

  She opened the second letter that was faded and wrinkled and brushed her cheeks as tears fell on the letter. She scanned how Morris had died so bravely fighting for the Confederacy. She let the letter flutter to the floor.

  Rafferty stepped to her and gently pulled her into his arms. “I know we’re little more than strangers, but you’ll have to let us be family to you now. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She was in pain. “Morris was so far from home on a battlefield without any family.”

  “He had family of sorts,” Rafe said quietly. “His comrades have to be family for each other.”

  She barely heard what Rafferty said. “He’s in a grave somewhere and I don’t even know where.” Hurting, she felt swamped with loss. Amos and Morris both gone. “I wish I could just know where he’s buried.”

  “I’m sorry, Sophia.”

  Tears fell, splashing on her hand and she wiped her eyes while Rafferty patted her shoulder as he released her. “I’ve told Amity and I need to tell Chantal.”

  The door opened behind him, and Amity crossed the room to take Sophia in her arms and hold her while they both cried. “I’m sorry,” Amity said. In minutes Chantal hugged her and Darcy came into the room, sitting quietly, his expression solemn.

  That night as conversation was carried on around her, she thought about Caleb who was with Bragg’s Army of Tennessee near Chattanooga. She had no idea where John was fighting or if he were alive. She hadn’t heard from him for months now. Morris was gone, buried on a battlefield without prayers or service or Memphis friends to mourn him. She dabbed at her eyes, and Amity squeezed her arm. She was thankful at least to know about him, because so many men who were killed were unidentified. She longed for Caleb’s strong arms and she knew his family was being as helpful and kind as they possibly could.

  As the days passed, Sophia felt the pain lessen. On the third of September, Chantal gave birth to a dark-haired baby girl, Daniella Marie O’Brien. Chantal and Rafferty looked as if they would burst with joy. He couldn’t keep from constantly touching Chantal or looking at tiny Daniella with her black eyes and dark hair. When Sophia held the new baby, she was caught up in a wave of longing for Caleb. The baby was precious, and Sophia lay awake that night, missing Caleb, wishing she hadn’t been so logical to wait until the war was over to marry him. She wished she was carrying his child.

  By the third week after Daniella’s birth Sophia, Amity, and Darcy packed and rode back to Belle Destin. Sophia hadn’t heard from Caleb since the first letter and every night she lay staring into the darkness, filled with worry about him.

  Chapter 18

  July 1865

  Memphis, Tennessee

  The door swung open. “Hannah Lou?”

  “Sophia!” Hannah Lou stepped forward to hug Sophia. “You’re home.”

  “I saw your mother,” Sophia said, gazing beyond Hannah Lou, dreading going inside the house. “I could hardly believe it when I learned you married while I was away.”

  “I wish you could have been here,” she said. “Come inside. I’m so glad to see you. I want to show you my house. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

  “Yes, it’s one of the grandest in town,” Sophia said with sincerity, admiring the brick Italiante with its arched, narrow windows and high ceilings.

  “Hannah Lou?” called a male voice.

  In the middle of the morning, Sophia thought she would miss Hannah Lou’s husband because he would be at work. His deep voice rang with familiarity even though it had been three long years since she had last heard him speak. Dunstan Trevitt stepped into the hall. He was more handsome than ever. His gaze settled on Sophia, and he smiled.

  “What a surprise! Don’t tell me. Let me conjure up the memory of one of my wife’s best friends. Miss Merrick,” he said, walking up to her and hugging her.

  She stiffened and moved away. “I was surprised to learn about your marriage.”

  He gazed at her with a look of amusement, yet she felt chilled in his presence and the hug had been uncalled for. “And you’ve come back to Memphis to start your paper again. They don’t require women to take the oath of allegiance, so you’re free to do what you want. Military rule ended the third of this month.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ve been told you’re a staunch opponent of railroads, so we’re still on opposing sides, Miss Merrick, because I’m building a railroad,” he proclaimed.

  “I doubt if our paths will cross often,” she said, wondering if Hannah Lou knew the full reason she left Memphis.

  “I’m leaving now. I’m late,” he said, turning to Hannah Lou. He slid his arm around her waist and kissed her full on the mouth.

  “Dunstan!” Hannah Lou exclaimed when he released her.

  “Come back again, Miss Merrick. I know what close f
riends you and my wife are.” He strode to the hat rack and removed his hat. As Hannah Lou turned toward the parlor, Sophia glanced back at him and Dunstan winked.

  She felt a swift rush of dislike and knew she would seldom come back to this house. She followed Hannah Lou into the parlor that was filled with mahogany Victorian furniture and potted palms. Gilt mirrors decorated the walls and heavy wine-colored satin draperies were pulled back from the long windows.

  “Your home is beautiful,” Sophia said, thinking it too elaborate for her taste.

  “Come see all of it,” Hannah Lou urged, taking her hand and chatting steadily until Sophia realized Hannah Lou had changed. She seemed nervous and on edge.

  Upstairs she paused in front of a large bedroom. “I’ve lost two babies,” she said abruptly, staring at Sophia with wide eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Sophia answered.

  Hannah Lou bit her lip. “This is our room.”

  Sophia didn’t want to go inside. She could see the four-poster bed, the glass lamps on marble-topped tables flanking the bed.

  “You have a beautiful home,” she repeated, wanting to get away, wondering if Hannah Lou were happy.

  “Where will you live, Sophia? I know your family’s home burned.”

  “How did it burn?”

  Hannah Lou looked away. “I didn’t know for a time. They said the Yankees did it. Dunstan doesn’t want me to call them Yankees. I’m to say the Union or Federals. They said you were printing that paper that was against the Union.”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Thank heaven the war is over and all that is behind us now. I’m so thankful. Memphis is changing. Come down to the parlor and we’ll have a sip of brandy.”

  “Hannah Lou, it’s morning.”