Chapter Fifteen
“Oh, my darling Linese.” Chase balanced on one forearm while he tenderly stroked the sweat-dampened hair around her face. “You are everything a man could ever wish for.” He kissed her deeply. “There is something I wanted to tell you before this happened.”
The foreboding in his gray eyes surprised her. How could Chase look so troubled when they had just shared such magic?
“Chase?”
He gently placed his fingertips over her lips. “Shh.” He leaned down and kissed her eyes, her nose, her forehead. “Linese, you must listen to me now. It’s important.”
“All right.”
“When I was gone, during the last battle I was in, something terrible happened to me.”
She moved aside the dark lock of hair grazing the top of his thick brows. “I know—your aide wrote about your hip. The scar doesn’t bother me, Chase. I felt it—”
He shook his head and his habitual frown appeared. “No, I’m not talking about the damage to my hip. Something else, something I never told the surgeons or anyone.”
A trail of gooseflesh began to work its way up Linese’s arms. Her breath caught in her throat. Fear that Chase had been more severely wounded than she knew wrapped around her heart. Terror that she might yet lose him gripped her.
“What happened to you?”
“When I woke up in the field hospital, at first I was heavily dosed with morphine.” He looked deep into her eyes. “When I was able to realize what was going on, volunteers were reading your letters to me.”
She smiled, remembering how many hours she spent pouring her love and longing into those letters.
“The problem was—” He looked at her more intently and the deep brackets around the corners of his mouth hardened. “The problem was I couldn’t remember anything about what you mentioned in your letters.”
“I don’t understand.”
Chase stroked her face. He gently moved a strand of her hair away from her temple and kissed where it had been. Love shone in his eyes, lingered in his touch, yet he was troubled.
“My memory was gone, Linese.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “I couldn’t remember going off to war or marrying you. I couldn’t remember anything—anything at all.”
She swallowed hard and blinked. The room had begun to shrink around them. There was no air in her lungs. It was difficult to breathe, difficult to absorb what he was saying.
“When did it return?” she finally asked.
He grimaced as if in physical pain and gave her a sad smile. “It hasn’t really. I still have no solid memory about my life before I woke up in that hospital. The day I stepped off the train in Mainfield and Kerney pinned that ribbon on my chest, my life began anew. That day was the first time I ever remembered seeing you.”
She felt the warm emotions of victory fade away while cold doubt and fear replaced them. A thousand tiny incidents and moments that had made her wonder about Chase’s behavior now fell into place like a child’s puzzle. Linese didn’t want to believe it, but she knew it was true.
He was different. He was not the man she married. Now she knew why. He was a better man, a more loving man, because he was a different person.
“You didn’t remember me?” Her voice was a pained whisper.
“I’m slowly getting better. Small fragments of memory have recently returned.” He smiled hopefully. “The memory of the first time I saw you came back to me just the other day. Linese, I have to know.” His gaze was riveted on her face. “Does knowing this change the way you feel about me?”
Conflict rose up inside her like sharp shards of broken glass. His tender dove gray eyes rent her heart in two. He was not the man she married, but he was certainly the man she adored. If his memory were to return completely, would he be the same? Or would the recollections of his old self take away the perfect husband God have given her?
“I love you, Chase. Since you have been home, I have fallen more in love with you every day,” she whispered truthfully.
“I was afraid knowing would change the way you felt about me.” He placed his palms on either side of her face and kissed her. “I was afraid I might lose you. Now there is no cloud, no threat hanging over us. We can rebuild our lives. Each day I remember a little more. I believe it will all come back eventually.”
A cold chill made her shiver beneath his loving gaze. She didn’t want Chase to remember any more of the past. She didn’t want him to remember the man he used to be, because she wanted him to remain the man he was now.
The fact sank into Linese like sharp claws. She tried to tamp down the cruel fear and the smoldering anger that came without warning while Chase lovingly turned her over and spooned their bodies together. He nuzzled her ear and sighed contentedly. She felt a hot lump grow in her throat.
She had finally achieved her goal, had finally regained her husband’s bed and heard him declare his love, and she felt as if her world had just collapsed around her feet in a pile of rubble.
*
Linese lay awake, curled in Chase’s arm, until the rosy glow of May’s early dawn crept through the open bedroom window. All night she had hated herself for making comparisons between his past behavior and the man he was now, but she had done it anyway.
Where the old Chase was reckless and daring, his personality was now tempered by patience and warmth.
The old Chase lived by a rigid code of rules that centered around his grandfather’s madness, his need to prove himself, and the popular belief that women were only an extension of their husbands. The man who stepped off that train was not afraid to do what was right without regard to how others would react, and he was secure enough to allow her to have independent thoughts.
If he only knew. If only she could tell him that she secretly prayed he would never remember anything more.
He stirred restlessly beside her. He looped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to the heat of his chest. Warm kisses were trailed down the back of her neck and she felt the subtle change when he moved from sleep to wakefulness.
“’Morning, sunshine,” he whispered in her ear.
“’Morning.”
“You smell like honey and clover on a summer’s day.” His breathy compliment sent a frisson of chills down her neck. When he cupped her breast in his big hand, she nearly moaned with pleasure and need. He made her quake inside and brought an abundance of emotion ripping from within her.
“Would you think I was a beast if I wanted to love you again?” his husky voice implored from behind.
“No, Chase. I want you to love me as many times as you get the notion to.” She turned over and into his strong arms. Linese slipped her arms around his neck and heard a clock ticking inside her head. She didn’t know how long a time she would be allowed to spend with him—the Chase he was now—but she wanted to capture and hold every possible moment she could. Knowing it could all end without warning swept away her anger and any hesitation that might have remained.
And she wanted to have a baby conceived with the tender, gentle man who now held and loved her, even if he ultimately vanished like a puff of smoke and remained only in her memories.
Chapter Sixteen
Chase left his horse at Ira’s stable and walked toward the newspaper office. The summer sunshine warmed his face and made him squint against the brightness. One strand of his hair fell across his forehead on an errant breeze and he swiped at it halfheartedly.
He caught himself whistling a tune, some forgotten melody that he knew without knowing how he knew it. There was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and he knew it was because of his wife.
His wife.
He liked the way it felt to think about her in that fashion. She was more than he dreamed in every way, and she loved him. She loved him in spite of himself.
For a moment, he thought about turning around and going back to Cordellane to spend the day with her. The past couple of months had been like a sweet dream. They had settled into a
wonderful domestic routine. Linese showed no interest in coming with him to the Gazette, even though he encouraged her to do so. He had tried to get her to write some editorials at home, but she seemed distracted and not really interested.
In a way, it gave him a degree of satisfaction that she didn’t feel it necessary to come with him, that she had confidence in him, even though he admitted that some things were still a black void to him. If she missed the work she had done so well in his absence, she denied it each time he tried to get her to write an editorial. She would tell him, with a smile, that his call to duty and honor had jolted most of Mainfield from their lethargic stupor. Linese claimed that Chase had become the catalyst and that the Union would benefit from his convictions. She insisted that he should do what must be done without her there to distract him.
A whiff of wood smoke floated on the breeze of autumn. Alarms went off in Chase’s head. It had been quiet these past perfect weeks—too quiet. He had been lulled into unguarded bliss by the harmony he had experienced each night in Linese’s arms since their first coupling. Now he felt his belly contract and knew that his world was about to change. Chase quickened his step and turned the corner, knowing somewhere in his gut what he would see before he got there.
Mainfield’s bucket brigade was busy tossing water through the shattered door of the Gazette. Black smoke rolled out of the smashed front windows. Chase was relieved to note there were no live embers, but the smell of charred wood and seared metal filled the air with choking smoke. He scanned the sooty faces of the men who had tried to save the office. Hezikiah Hershner was among them. He handed his empty bucket to another man and walked toward Chase.
“What happened, Hezikiah?” Chase knew what had taken place, and why, but still he asked.
“I thought I’d come over to see how you’ve been faring. Doc Lukins says I’m healed.” Hezikiah held up his mended arm to show Chase. “I saw smoke coming from the back of the office.”
“Is the press ruined?” Chase’s mind was flying ahead, already figuring out a way to keep the weekly Gazettes coming out without interruption. It was a twisted consolation that his editorials were upsetting the Businessman’s Association so much they attempted to silence him by burning him out. The same tactic had been used successfully in Cooke County only the month before. That newspaper had folded and the man who owned it had fled into Kansas with the shirt on his back and little else.
“That hunk of metal is almost indestructible,” Hezikiah said. “It’ll probably need a good cleaning, but it can withstand a lot more than a small fire. You will be needing a new supply of paper though. Smoke and water damage wiped out everything. Ink’s ruined, too, from the heat.”
Chase nodded and rubbed his palm down his face. The closest place to find any paper would probably be in Bartlesville. The trip would take at least a day and half. He was reluctant to leave Linese and his grandfather alone for that long, and it was going to be difficult to find the money since the local business community no longer purchased ads in the Gazette.
“I could go to Ferrin County for you. See if I can find what you need there, if you could use the help,” Hezikiah offered.
A sigh of relief escaped Chase’s lips. “I’d appreciate that, Hezikiah, if you feel up to it. I don’t want you going if you’re not fit.”
“The trip will do me good. I’ve gotten downright lazy since you took over. You’ve been doing a fine job, Chase, and stirring up some of the local politics in the bargain. I’ve been keeping up with the news in each Gazette, and the reaction of, uh, certain people.”
The compliment made Chase smile. “There is still a place for you. Lord knows I could use you, but there is something you should know first.” Hezikiah followed him to a more secluded area at the side of the office where the bucket brigade was not throwing water on the smoldering timber. “I have stepped on a few toes with my editorials. It could be dangerous for you to be associated with me.”
Hezikiah looked Chase up and down with his glittering blackbird eyes. “So I see.” He looked at the charred ruins of the office. “Life has been boring as hell lately. I could use a little excitement.”
“I hope you don’t get more than you bargained for,” Chase said while he watched a puff of smoke head skyward.
Chase slumped into the big chair and poured himself a brandy. He was tired to the bone, but felt alive and full of purpose. The past few days he had been up before the dawn and home long after dark. He had barely seen Linese or his grandfather.
Setting up temporary quarters for the newspaper had been an almost impossible task, but he had done it. Thanks to Ira Goten. Chase grinned and thought of Mayor Kerney and his group. No doubt they were meeting somewhere right now, cursing him to the everlasting fires of hell for thwarting their efforts. He chuckled aloud when he thought about it.
At first, every vacant storeroom and shanty in Mainfield had become suddenly occupied, rented by a nameless, faceless phantom with plenty of money. There had not been a single unused shed that could be had for the purpose of housing a printing press. Chase had come close to moving the press and everything else back to Cordellane, just to be able to see the issues continue, but then Ira Goten offered space in the building next to his stable.
Chase had moved grain, cleaned out wasp nests and stared into the beady eyes of disgruntled field mice for two weeks. Now at last, the Gazette was churning out papers again.
A pain behind Chase’s eyes made him wince. He had noticed more and more the relentless pain and ringing in his ears that accompanied every small flash of memory that he regained. He picked up the glass and brought it to his forehead. He closed his eyes and held the smooth, cool surface there, hoping to numb some of the pounding. Then he slowly opened his eyes.
Just as he expected, the image of the fireplace swam before him. It shifted, distorted. He was transported to another time long ago.
It was his father’s image, dark haired and youthful. Chase knew he had been watching his father in secrecy. His father was wearing black arm bands. The remembered feeling of sorrow and great loss swept over Chase.
He was remembering the day of a burial.
“Whose?” Chase asked himself.
His father was red eyed, grief stricken, shouting at Captain Cordell. Chase heard his father’s words echo in his mind.
“It’s the damn Cordell curse. I never should’ve believed we’d be free of it. Now it has taken my wife, my love.”
The hair prickled on the back of Chase’s neck while the memory slowly began to fade away.
“Now it has taken my wife.”
Chase gulped down his sorrow while he allowed himself to remember back to his childhood, back to the day his mother had been put into the ground.
Chase remembered Captain Cordell stepping inside the library. His arms were laden with split logs. He too was younger, his mustache an iron gray instead of snowy white.
He set the logs beside the hearth and laid the first fire of the season on the grate. Chase remembered the way it felt when the blaze ignited and filled the room with heat, yet he shivered now with the old emotions washing over him.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Captain Cordell’s voice jarred Chase back to the present. He looked up to see his grandfather standing beside the hearth, his arms again full of split logs. A feeling of déj#224; vu sluiced through him.
“What’s troubling you, Chase?” Captain Cordell tossed the charred broom straw he had used to start the blaze into the hearth. A golden glow filled the room.
“Grandfather, tell me about the Cordell curse.” The haunting memory of his father remained with him. What did it mean? Was there something wrong with this family?
“Where on earth did you hear that?” The old man rubbed his fingers over his mustache and glanced up at his son’s portrait as if he too were remembering the day from the past.
“I heard my father, standing right here in front of this fireplace, shouting at you. What exactly is the Cordell curse? I
s there such a thing?”
“You were just a little fry when your mama died. I wouldn’t have thought you’d remember that terrible night” The old man looked sympathetic. “It was so long ago.”
“I’ve been thinking about the past quite a lot lately.” Chase said with a weary sigh. He still stubbornly kept from telling his grandfather the truth about his memory. Linese was the only person he trusted and loved enough to “tell.
Captain Cordell walked to the window and stared out at the salmon streak above the treetops. “Your father said all those things out of grief, Chase. You shouldn’t be putting any stock in it, not now.”
“Tell me about it, please.”
A heavy sigh escaped the old man’s lips, but he nodded in understanding. He moved to the long sofa and sat down.
“When your mama died, he was brokenhearted. He thought it was some sort of omen. First your grandma from the fever, then your mama and newborn sister—it was a difficult birth. He had the notion, the unshakable belief, the Cordell men were doomed to lose the women they loved. A curse, if you believe in such superstitions. I guess your father grew up hearing about such things on a regular basis, being as close to Louisiana as we are. Those people are steeped in beliefs of that kind. I never could put any stock in it, myself.”
Chase shivered inwardly. “You don’t believe it?”
The old man squared his shoulders as if preparing himself to take a crushing blow. “I admit when Marjorie died there was a time when I wondered if it might be true. But it’s foolishness, Chase. We are no more cursed than any other family. I finally came to terms with that sad fact. I’ve seen many a family bury too many of their kin in these sixty years, especially since this damnable secessionist trouble began. It’s a fact that death is a part of life, but it ain’t no curse.”
Chase stared into the flames of the fire and prayed his grandfather was right. The best part of himself would never live again if anything happened to Linese. He had done his best to shatter the barriers that kept them apart, and prayed that he would eventually become a whole man again. That was the only reason he had finally allowed himself to love her totally. He wasn’t sure he could live with himself if, after all was said and done, there really was a strange hex upon his family. He wasn’t sure he could go on if his selfishness put Linese in danger, no matter how farfetched the notion might be.
Linda Castle Page 17