“I didn’t mind that part.”
She hugged her arms about herself with a sigh and studied the tireless motion of the plover. “I’m sorry, Thad. I suppose I’ve been a little preoccupied.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Where shall I start? The war? The city? My too-empty pocketbook?”
“Those aren’t new concerns. And you’re not inclined to brood on any of them. What’s really bothering you?”
She lifted her face to catch the dying breeze. “I’m just worried about Abigail.”
“Is she ill?”
“Not as you’re thinking.” The respiratory ailments of winter had passed, and it was much too early for summer sicknesses. “She’s just been in low spirits. It’s so ridiculous,” she burst out. “My dearest friend is suffering and my father won’t even let me enter my own house to help her.”
Hunched over crossed arms, she turned back to the harbor, watching the eternal battle of wills play out between river and ocean. Tide and current. Did they ever grow weary of fighting? In the end, did it really matter who won?
“Sometimes I wonder if going to school is worth all the misery.”
“What are you saying?” Thad turned her to face him. “Emily, you want to paint more than you’ve ever wanted anything.”
“I’m tired, Thad. Tired of working. Tired of conflict. Tired of Charleston. What if, at the end of everything, I’m still the object of ridicule? Then what will have been the purpose?”
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “It’s not like you to throw your hands up halfway through a fight. You’re stronger than that. What is this really about?”
With a scowl, she related her encounter with Peggy Sue that morning.
“Ah,” he said. “Now I’m beginning to understand.”
“I’m just not sure I want to go through all this effort to attend school when nobody in the South will ever respect the work of a woman anyway.”
He considered her carefully. “So, you’re telling me you’re willing to sacrifice your deepest desire on the alter of public opinion?”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “That’s not it at all.”
“It sounds that way to me.” He eyes burrowed into hers. “Emily, I think you need to decide who you’re doing this for. Them?” He spread his arm toward the Charleston skyline. “Or you?”
She digested his comment for several long moments, chewing her lip and watching the shadow of the bathhouse inch into the Cooper River. He didn’t interrupt but let her thoughts work through to their end. “You’re right,” she finally admitted. “This has never been about them.”
“Of course I’m right.”
“This is something I need to do for me. However, if I return and no one buys my work, the end is still the same.”
“Who says you have to come back to Charleston? When you’re done with school, you can live anywhere you want to.”
Her head lifted. “You’re right.” The thought changed everything. “Thad, you’re right. I have no obligations to this place.” She smiled. Why had it never occurred to her before?
Thad twined his fingers in hers. “Feel better?”
She laughed. “Better? I feel as though you just set me free.”
“Good.” He nodded in satisfaction and tugged her back into the stream of foot traffic. Their clasped hands swung between them with every step. “So, do you have any ideas about how we can help Abigail?”
“We don’t have to. Dr. Malone is taking her on holiday. He stopped by to invite me to attend a wedding with them. In Savannah.”
He stiffened.
She peeked up at him. “You don’t want me to go to Savannah.”
“Of course I don’t. The Yankees are swarming the river mouth. It’s only twenty miles south of Hilton Head, you know.”
The thought made her stomach churn, but not enough to miss such an opportunity. She hadn’t visited Savannah since she was a little girl. “But the city is eighteen miles upriver. And anyway, we’ll be traveling by rail, not ship.”
“Are you aware how far Port Royal Sound extends inland? The Union gunboats can nearly steam up to the tracks. I guarantee they’d like nothing better than to get their hands on our rail lines.”
“Thad, they won’t suddenly attack the railroad just because I’m on it. Dr. Malone said the rivers are barricaded and there are thousands of soldiers boxing the Yankees in at Hilton Head. They won’t reach the railroad or Charleston or Savannah without a fight. I will be perfectly safe.”
He sighed in resignation. “I pray that every night.”
Emily clutched his arm enthusiastically. “Oh, Thad, wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could meet your family? Maybe they’ll even be at the wedding. Savannah isn’t that big.” She looked up at him hopefully. “Do you think there is any chance you could join us?” It was the question she’d been leading up to since she voiced the city’s name.
“Next weekend?” He shook his head. “There’s no way I could get away.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I thought you’d say that.”
“Emily, be fair. It’s nearly the end of term. I have papers, projects, and finals approaching.”
“I know. I was just hoping.” She blinked away the prick of disappointment. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever going to meet your family.”
Thad squeezed her hand. “Maybe you won’t have to wait as long as you think.”
“What do you mean?”
He towed her toward the railing overlooking the water and fiddled with a thread hanging from his shirt cuff. “Since the night in Mrs. Bentley’s parlor, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’m nearly finished with my final year of college. I had planned to return to Savannah this summer to begin looking for a job, but there is no reason I can’t look for work in Baltimore. Why can’t we be together while you attend school?” He turned his head to gauge her reaction.
Warning bells went off in Emily’s brain. Recalling her conversation with Abigail about this very subject, she hesitated. “I’m not sure that would be wise.”
“Why not?”
Her cheeks grew warm. “You and me together in Baltimore, long-term, with no chaperone?”
“You have no chaperone here. Your father abandoned you.”
“But I have friends here to…keep me accountable.”
“You’d be in a proper boardinghouse with a matron watching your every move.”
She hesitated. “It doesn’t feel right, Thad.”
He smiled secretly. “Then what if we marry?” He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a ring.
Emily sucked in her breath. It was a garnet, encircled by diamond chips, and it looked old. A family heirloom. “Thad, are you serious?”
“I’ve never been more so.”
“But it’s so sudden. We haven’t talked about this—”
He halted her protests with a kiss. “It’s all we’ve talked about for months. Our families, our plans, our futures. We’ve been in complete agreement.”
“But we were going to wait until I finished school.”
“How would moving up the date change anything?”
She was too overwhelmed to respond. With all earnestness, he clasped her hand in both of his. “Emily, I love you. I will not fail you as your father has. I will protect you and I will cherish you. I promise to support you just as you will support me. I will do everything in my power to help you succeed. Will you marry me?”
“I—I don’t know what to say.” Wisdom urged her to finish her education before encumbering herself with the demands of marriage. Yet working so near him had cultivated an eagerness to join their lives together. “I want to say yes, but I need time to think through my answer.”
“I will respect that.” He smiled and pulled her into an embrace, planting a kiss on the top of her head.
Her thoughts whirled like the eddies formed by the tide. She would go to Baltimore. Nothing would prevent her from seeing that become a reality. But maybe, ju
st maybe, she really could have Thad, too.
“How is your singing voice?” he asked. “Could it use some exercise?”
“What?” The odd question roused her from her musings. “Thad, what are you talking about?”
A mischievous grin brought out his dimple. “I thought maybe Abigail could use some cheering up. A rousing rendition of Polly Perkins of Paddington Green ought to do it. If we stood on the sidewalk outside her window, Zeke wouldn’t be under any obligation to remove us.”
“You’re crazy.”
His grin went crooked. “About you.” Then he threw back his head and bellowed a chorus that rolled over the harbor. “For she was as beautiful as a butterfly and proud as a queen, was pretty little Polly Perkins of Paddington Green.”
“Thad!” She squealed with laughter as he tugged her down the promenade still singing the ridiculous tune. “Slow down! I’ll never be able to sing if I’m winded.”
“Then I shall have to carry you.”
“Don’t you dare!”
He scooped her into his arms, unmindful of her squeals or the other strollers who had paused to watch the spectacle with varying degrees of consternation or amusement. Beside them, the river gathered strength. The tide might obstruct the current for a time, but eventually the water always emptied into the sea.
10
Raindrops thrummed against the stained glass windows like a symphony of tapping fingernails and drowned out the reverend’s words. If Emily closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the sound was the distant din of gunfire, the very thing she had dreaded hearing all the way to Savannah. But she hadn’t vocalized her fears. She would rather be captured by Yankees than ruin this trip for Abigail.
She glanced at her friend, who was transfixed by the ceremony taking place at the front of the church. Feeling her gaze, Abigail looked up and grinned. The trip was just what she’d needed. It put color back in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eye. Emily could almost imagine the calendar had flipped back to last year.
Emily took in the happy faces of the bride and groom. They seemed oblivious to the crowd, to the rain, to the danger. And why shouldn’t they be? If they’d found happiness, why not embrace it wholeheartedly? If war threatened to snatch it away, shouldn’t they pursue it all the more urgently? Life was so unpredictable.
She let her eyes run up the walls and linger in the arched vault of the ceiling far above. God always felt a little nearer in a church. At least the questions she wanted to ask him always came into sharper focus when every line of the building pointed upward. Are you watching the nation tear itself apart? What are your thoughts? Whose side are you on? Or are you abstaining altogether?
After all, Americans North and South both subscribed to the same belief system. They both claimed the Scriptures as their holy book. So how could they be so sharply divided? Was anyone actually reading what it said? Or was faith just one more adornment added to a shirtfront each morning?
The rain had ceased by the time the ceremony ended, but strong gusts tore at the skirts and coats of the wedding guests as they piled into the long line of carriages. A dinner reception would take place at the home of the bride’s parents. As Emily huddled in the queue with the Malones, awaiting their ride and listening to Abigail gush about the music and the decorations and the bridal gown, Dr. Malone announced, “We’ll be taking a detour on our way to the reception. It will be an hour before dinner is served, and I thought you girls would like to see something of the city. Abigail has not visited since she was very young. Emily, have you been to Savannah before?”
“Once, with my father several years ago. I should very much like to see it again.”
“Then I shall serve as tour guide. I visit far too often.”
Abigail threw her arms around her father and kissed his cheek. Emily thanked him with more decorum.
When their coach was third in line, they were approached by a young man who touched Emily lightly on the shoulder and then turned so his body blocked the wind. “Miss Preston?”
“Mr. Johnson,” she exclaimed in delight, restraining her hat against the gusts that pushed around him. “How are you?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“Dr. and Mrs. Malone, this is Mr. Darius Johnson. His family owns a plantation on the Cooper River in Berkeley County. Our families have conducted business together. Abigail, you remember him from our picnic on Sullivan’s Island last summer?”
Abigail smiled demurely.
Darius nodded at the doctor and doffed his hat at Ida and Abigail. Then he directed his attention back to Emily. “I thought I’d offer my condolences. I know how much store you were setting by that young Negro boy you bought from me. I heard his father took him and ran off. Have they been found?”
Emily flicked her eyes at Abigail. “I don’t believe so. But I’m not currently living at Ella Wood, and my communication with my father has been somewhat…interrupted of late.”
“Word of that reached me as well.” He paused uncomfortably.
Emily genuinely liked Darius. Shy and sensitive, he triggered a protective instinct in her, like a puppy she couldn’t stand to see abused. She smiled cheerfully. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Are you a friend of the bride or groom?”
“The bride is my second cousin.”
“So you have family here.”
“I recognize a few faces.” He said it without looking away from hers. “My father thought we should make an appearance, but he couldn’t attend so I was sent in his place.”
Emily glanced at Dr. Malone. “Then would it be too forward of me to invite you to sit with us at the reception?”
Dr. Malone agreed immediately. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Mr. Johnson. In fact, you’re welcome to accompany us on a tour of the city before dinner if you’d like,” he added as their carriage pulled up.
Darius peeked at Emily and looked quickly away. “Thank you. If you’re offering, I’d be happy to accept on both counts.”
“Very well.” Dr. Malone handed the ladies into the interior and waited to climb aboard until Darius followed. “Then let’s be off.”
Emily was more than grateful to get out of the wind. She settled next to Abigail as they pulled away from the church and veered toward the river, only three streets away. The rain began once more in irregular bursts that smacked against the sides of the carriage like handfuls of pebbles. Dr. Malone cleared his throat. “I had hoped for more cooperative weather.”
“I’m sure we’ll have a lovely tour,” Ida said, patting his hand.
He grinned at Darius. “I’ve learned she’s right most of the time.” He settled back in his seat. “So you’re from Berkeley County. You wouldn’t happen to know Chester Rosenwald, would you? He owns several hundred acres near up near Monck’s Corner.”
As the doctor engaged Darius in conversation, Emily watched the unique layout of Savannah pass outside the window, unaware of the younger man’s frequent glances. She remembered the squares from her last visit. Georgia’s founder, James Oglethorpe himself, had designed the city even before he knew where it was to be located. She brushed a finger across the glass in a vain attempt to clear the rivulets of water from the pane.
At the end of the street, the driver descended the bluff and traveled the entire length of the waterfront. It was nearly as still as Charleston’s harbor. Only days before, Fort Pulaski had fallen at the river’s mouth, halting all shipping to and from the city. Emily remembered how the wharves had teemed with life when she visited years ago. Now vessels sat abandoned, the dockhands absent. Like Charleston, Savannah’s primary avenue of commerce had been cut off.
Even so, Emily smiled secretly to herself. This was the city in which Thad had grown up. He had walked these streets, played in these parks, boarded ships from these docks. She felt close to him here and wondered if the carriage had passed his family home. His mother and sisters might be only paces away! How she wished he could have accompanied her.
The feeling intensified as
they turned onto Bay Street and passed beneath the iron walkways that connected the offices of the cotton brokers to the dockside warehouses. Thad’s father worked for the cotton exchange, and Thad had been studying to follow in his footsteps. Perhaps, after the war, this city might even hold her future. She felt a jolt of anticipation when she remembered Thad’s proposal. She hadn’t told Abigail yet. Not while her mind still felt so divided. But the wedding ceremony and now her proximity to his boyhood home certainly made marriage feel like a real possibility.
They turned onto East Broad Street, the city’s original perimeter, and wound their way back among the historic buildings. Emily caught sight of the Marshall House—their hotel with its sprawling iron veranda—and every time they passed a side street, it opened a view of the huge old cemetery that housed the city’s earliest residents. As they trotted past the Savannah Theater, Emily caught a glimpse of a familiar face. She stiffened and whirled in her seat, wiping away the condensation on the window for a better look.
“What is it, dear?” Ida asked.
“I thought I saw…” Her words trickled off.
It couldn’t be. It was difficult to see through the streaming glass, but the man’s profile, his stance, his caramel coloring looked just like someone she once knew…
He turned his face toward her.
“Stop the carriage!”
Dr. Malone jumped forward in alarm. “Emily, what is it?”
She grabbed the handle and yanked open the door. “Stop!” she screamed again. “Stop the carriage!” Before the startled driver had pulled the horses to a halt, she had leaped out into the gusty downpour. “Jeremiah!”
The man turned at the sound of her voice. It was him!
Laughing, she let the wind blow her across the muddy street. Jeremiah had been the butler in her father’s Charleston home before her brother Jack had sold him to pay off a gambling debt. She hadn’t known the young man well, but imagining his fate had disturbed her greatly. “Jeremiah, I am so pleased to see you!”
Apparently he didn’t share her delight. Recognition was followed closely by panic. Turning on his heel, he bolted toward a door at the side of the theater.
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