“Please call me Brandon. I will no longer be a captain after tomorrow.”
“I daresay you will go on being thought of in that manner for years to come. However, it would hardly be appropriate for us to presume a familiarity with you.”
“Oh, pshaw!” Carissa declared. “He has asked us to call him by his Christian name, and I for one intend to do so. You can have your social formalities if you like, Laura, but I would rather avoid them.”
“Sometimes social formalities keep us safe,” Laura countered.
Brandon could see that she wasn’t happy with her sister’s flippant attitude and he certainly didn’t want to see a family feud break out. “Either way, ladies, do use whatever name makes you most comfortable.”
They stepped outside, and Brandon noted that the warmth of summer had faded somewhat with the setting sun. The twilight left a golden hue on the western horizon, while the skies over the Gulf were a darkening shade of blue. Brandon remembered this time of evening in Indiana with fondness. There was a sense of comfort and ease that came with the night—especially after a day of hard work.
“You seem to be deep in thought.”
Brandon looked at Laura and smiled. “I suppose I am. I was just remembering my home.”
“Do you miss it a great deal?” she asked.
“I do. It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. Battles and war do not exactly concern themselves with one’s nostalgia and longing.”
“Were you . . . well . . . in a great many battles?” Laura’s hesitation was apparent. Perhaps she thought her question too personal.
“We were in quite a few,” he replied. “Too many, if you ask me. Nevertheless, we did our duty.”
“Oh, please let us not speak of the war tonight,” Carissa interjected. “I want to have fun and to enjoy myself without remembering all that has gone on. Please.”
Brandon jumped in before Laura could chide her outburst. “I believe you are quite right, Miss Marquardt. It would be to our benefit to put aside such gloomy topics.”
“You should call me Carissa, and I will of course call you Brandon,” she said, batting her lashes. “I think we will be great friends.”
Brandon noted that Laura stiffened at her sister’s statement. He wondered if she was uncomfortable with the attention Carissa showed him. That thought made him smile.
Upon arriving at the party, however, Carissa soon forgot about Brandon and her sister. She moved through the gathering speaking to first one person and then another with ease.
“It would seem your sister is already familiar with most of the people here,” Brandon commented.
Laura frowned and snapped her fan into place. “Her actions are quite inappropriate at times.”
“Perhaps it’s her youth.”
“I have thought as much myself,” Laura admitted, “but at times I fear no amount of time will mature her.”
“It matured you.”
She gave him a most serious expression. “I was never that immature . . . even as a child. Mother said I was always serious.”
He could easily imagine her as a studious and obedient little girl. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Perhaps you’ve just never had the right person to show you how to enjoy life.”
Before he could hear her response, they were interrupted. “Ah, here’s the man of the hour,” Justin Armstrong said as he came to greet Brandon and Laura. “And leave it to you to have the prettiest gal of all on your arm.”
Brandon glanced to Laura. “Miss Marquardt, may I introduce Major Justin Armstrong, my commanding officer.”
“Major Armstrong, I believe I have heard my father speak of you. It is an honor to meet you.”
“And I am pleased to meet you, Miss Marquardt. Your father is Stanley Marquardt, I presume.”
“Yes. He has long been a Union supporter, although it has not always benefited him.”
Armstrong chuckled. “Well, I believe he will find it a benefit to him now. Many of the men who refused to bear arms against the Union are finding it so.”
“I understand that this is the house where the men come to take the loyalty oath,” Laura said.
“It is indeed,” Brandon interjected. “General Charles Russell stands just over there. We are friends from a long way back. His wife and daughters are good friends with my folks.”
“I have met the general on several occasions,” Laura said. “He seems a good and fair man.”
“He is,” Armstrong confirmed. He motioned to her delicate fan. “That’s a lovely piece. Do you know where I might purchase something similar for my wife?”
She seemed to consider this for a moment. “This fan was brought to me by way of Mexico. You might be able to find another if you were to search some of the shops where such goods are sold. I can direct you to a few of them if you are unfamiliar.”
“That would be good. My wife is fond of fans, and the hand painting on that one is beautiful. Is it true that you can learn to speak an entire language with a fan?”
Brandon would have laughed at his commanding officer’s comments regarding ladies’ fans, but he presumed the major was just trying to make conversation.
“It is true, Major.” Laura placed the open fan to cover her left ear. “This requests, ‘Do not betray our secret.’ ” She opened and closed the fan several times. “This suggests that you are being cruel and I am quite vexed with you.” She smiled. “But of course, I am not.”
“For that I am glad,” the major replied.
Just then Laura dropped the fan and let it dangle on her wrist. “This says, ‘We will be friends.’ And that is my wish, Major.”
He laughed. “Not only beautiful, but charming, as well. I would be happy to be your friend, Miss Marquardt. But for now, I have other duties. I hope you will enjoy yourself this evening.”
“Thank you, Major. I believe I will.”
Brandon waited until Justin had moved off to discuss something with another of the officers before turning to Laura. “You are quite impressive with your secret language and all.”
“Well, of course it only works if the gentleman in question also speaks the language. Or should I say, reads the language. My mother says that a couple can conduct an entire courtship without words if they both know the secrets of the fan.”
He laughed and took hold of her arm. “You will have to teach me then.”
“Are you planning a courtship, Captain?” she asked innocently.
He raised a brow. “Are you proposing one?”
She blushed as he had expected and looked lost for words. Taking her fan in hand, she opened it fully and held it in her right hand.
“And what does that mean?” he asked, unable to resist.
She smiled in a coy fashion. “It means, ‘You are too willing.’ ”
He roared with laughter, causing several people—including Carissa—to take note. Brandon couldn’t help himself and offered no explanation. He liked this young woman. Liked her spunk and wit. Perhaps it was time he learned more about fans.
Laura listened with interest as the general shared Brandon’s accomplishments. Apparently Brandon Reid was a strong leader. She was impressed with his heroic measures, as well. It seemed he had risked his life on multiple occasions to rescue fallen comrades.
Once the speeches were completed, a little band assembled and the room was cleared for dancing. Laura watched her sister move from partner to partner, flirting openly as she went. Carissa seemed to have no awareness of her actions. Laura didn’t want to put an end to her sister’s good time, but gracious, the girl had just announced her engagement!
“Might I have a word with you?” Laura asked as the music concluded and Carissa came to a stop not but two feet away.
“I suppose if you must,” her sister replied. “I have promised the next dance, however.”
Laura took Carissa by the arm and led her to the corner of the room. “You are making quite a spectacle of yourself. Would Malcolm approve of your actions?�
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“I’ve done nothing wrong,” she protested. “I’m not yet a married woman. Besides, I’m only being nice to the officers. They are far from home and they miss their wives and sweethearts. I’m simply trying to cheer their spirits.”
“Well, perhaps you should do less cheering,” Laura suggested.
Brandon joined them just then and gave Laura a sweeping bow. “I wonder if I might have the next dance?”
She’d been surprised that he hadn’t asked before then. There had already been half a dozen dances, and while Laura hadn’t wanted for a partner, she couldn’t help but wonder why Brandon had not attempted to be one of them.
She let her fan rest on her right cheek and smiled. “This means yes.”
He laughed and took hold of her arm. “Come along, then. They are playing a waltz.”
Pulling her into his arms, Brandon carefully maneuvered her around the other couples. The house was not designed for large crowds of dancers, leaving the pairs in close proximity.
“Are you having a good time?” he asked. “I saw that the general’s entire staff had gathered in your corner.”
She shook her head. “They were there to see Carissa, I assure you.”
“Hardly. You outshine your sister like the sun to the moon.”
“Are you toying with my affections, Captain?” She asked the question quite casually but found she longed to know his true feelings on the matter.
“Madam, I would never stoop to such behavior. I assure you, I am quite honorable.”
She wondered at his statement. Honorable? About what? Was he testing her feelings? If so, to what purpose? A million questions flooded her mind, but few answers came to light.
When the music concluded, Brandon surprised her by suggesting they leave. “I promised that I would have you home by nine. It’s already half past eight.”
Laura nodded, although she felt a tremendous sense of disappointment. “I would imagine we will struggle to disentangle Carissa. She is having a great deal of fun being the center of everyone’s attention.”
But it proved easier than she had thought. Brandon merely stepped in and took Carissa by the arm. With apologies to her companions, he explained that he was honor bound to have the young ladies home by nine. They were halfway to the carriage before Carissa found her tongue.
“I don’t see why we need to leave now,” she declared. “This is, after all, a party for you, Brandon. Surely you don’t want to disappoint your guests.”
“They are the general’s guests and will go on having a wonderful time even in my absence.”
Carissa gave a bit of a pout as Brandon handed her into the carriage. “It hardly seems fair. This is the first party I’ve attended in ages.”
“Be glad that the captain invited us at all,” Laura said, joining Carissa on the leather seat.
“I am that,” Carissa told Brandon as he took the seat opposite them. “I do thank you for the invitation. I haven’t had that much fun in a long, long while.”
“Well, you are most welcome. Soon, however, I would imagine you will have your own celebrations. Perhaps an engagement party?”
“Oh yes! I am already speaking to mother about the plans. I do hope you will attend.”
“I hope I will as well,” he said to Carissa, though his eyes were on Laura.
Laura couldn’t help but wonder at his behavior. She had enjoyed the attentions of several potential suitors prior to the war, but Brandon was a man full grown where the others had simply been boys. At least they’d acted that way.
He appears comfortable with me, she reasoned in silence. From time to time she would cast a quick glance at the man, but shadows concealed his expression. Of course, Brandon is from Indiana. He may plan to return there once his duties are completed and his discharge is given. What if I’m merely a diversion until that time? She let slip a sigh.
“Are you all right, Miss Marquardt?”
His soft voice seemed to fill the carriage, and Laura felt that same delicious shiver go up her spine. “I am quite well, thank you. And thank you for such a wonderful evening. I enjoyed it very much.”
7
I do wish Carissa could have joined us.” Laura’s mother fingered a piece of Chantilly lace. “I believe she would want this lace for her veil.”
Laura nodded. “Perhaps Mr. May can set aside the piece for her to inspect tomorrow?” she asked, looking to the portly store owner.
“I most certainly can,” he said without further prompting. “I will keep it in the back, and when Miss Carissa is feeling better you can bring her by.”
Mother released the piece. “Thank you so much. That would be very kind of you. I would hate for such an exquisite piece to get away from us.”
“It came from France, by way of New Orleans.” He carefully wrapped the piece for storage. “I’m told it takes countless hours to make.”
“To be certain,” Mother replied. “Now, what about satins, Mr. May. Have you any white satin?”
Laura watched and listened as her mother inspected one piece of material after another. She held up a beautiful piece of iridescent cloth. The pale pearly pink was some of the nicest Laura had seen since before the war.
“This would make a beautiful gown for you, Laura. It would go well with your complexion.”
“I agree it’s lovely, Mother. However, it is certain to be expensive. Remember what I said before: We do not want to alienate those who are less fortunate by flaunting our wealth.”
“Nonsense. This is a wedding. I will not have my daughters looking shabby. Just because others did not have the foresight to secure their valuables and assets as your father has done, is no reason we must pretend to be as ill prepared.” She turned to Mr. May. “We will take the bolt. Have it delivered to Mrs. Demarist. She is to design and sew the gown.”
“Very good,” Mr. May declared in a voice that clearly showed his excitement over such a sale.
They visited another three stores before finally exhausting their choices. As they were about to leave Mercer’s Mercantile, the owner hurried to stop them.
“Mrs. Marquardt, I have news that you will want to know.” He leaned close so that if anyone was trying to overhear, they would be thwarted. “My brother is bringing up a shipment from Matamoros.”
Although Laura knew her mother was exhausted, Agatha Marquardt was not about to be left out of this news. “Do tell. Will there be flour?”
“I am told,” he said in a barely audible voice, “that he will bring at least six barrels of flour.”
“I will happily pledge to take as much as can be spared,” Mother replied. “At a minimum I shall want to secure half a barrel.”
Mr. Mercer nodded. “I thought as much. There will also be good cane sugar, salt, and coffee, as well. Real coffee,” he added as if she might question him.
“Save us some of each,” Mother instructed. “As much as you dare. I do not wish to be greedy, but I have a good number of people to feed.”
“I will have it brought to you upon its arrival.” The man hurried off to help another customer.
Laura couldn’t help but smile. “It will be wonderful to have flour again. The supplies have been so difficult to get with any regularity.”
“I often think back to the days before the war when we were more than a little wasteful,” Mother said with a heavy sigh. “I have come to greatly appreciate the comforts of good food, warm fires, and plenty of soap.”
Laura noted that her mother looked rather tired, so she suggested, “I believe it would do us both good to sit for a time and enjoy something cool to drink. Perhaps have some cakes.” She knew her mother’s penchant for sweets and played upon it now.
“That would be most welcome,” Mother replied. “I do find such shopping to be a bit exhausting. When I think of having to return tomorrow with Carissa . . . well, it’s quite overwhelming.”
“Then let me bring her tomorrow,” Laura offered as they made their way to a small restaurant. “I can show
her the items you thought appropriate.”
Mother nodded. “Thank you. That would be wonderful. I cannot tell you how much this wears on my nerves.”
They entered the small establishment and were immediately seated by the front window. Laura liked this, for it afforded her a front-row view to watch the townsfolk pass by. Every day since the conclusion of the war, it seemed that Corpus Christi was regaining some of its former glory. New people were moving in while a few of the older, established families were returning to reclaim their homes.
They placed an order for iced tea, chilled shrimp, and iced cakes. The latter seemed to revive Laura’s mother almost immediately as she began to nibble on the sweet treat.
“Agatha?” a veiled woman in black mourning clothes questioned.
Laura turned toward the voice and was able to make out the features of the gaunt and troubled Margaret Meuly. She smiled at the woman, but she didn’t receive one in return.
“I thought that was you, but these days I can’t be certain of even my own name.”
“I never expected to see you here, Margaret,” Laura’s mother said. “Won’t you sit?”
She took the seat beside Laura’s mother. “I cannot stay. My daughter is seeing to the bill.” She wrung her hands. “I am quite distraught.” She lowered her voice and glanced around the room for a moment. “The colored troops ransacked my house.”
“What!” Mother looked at Laura in disbelief. “What are you saying?”
“They came and destroyed my home. Never mind that we faithfully supported the Union. They were drunk, and they carried off most everything that wasn’t nailed down. They took my beloved rosewood piano.”
“No,” Mother gasped. “How can this be?”
The woman leaned in closer and narrowed her eyes. “You have not yet heard the worst of it. They broke into the family vault behind the house. They . . . they . . .” Her voice broke and a sob escaped. “They destroyed Baby’s coffin. They spilled the bones on the ground.”
Laura’s hand went to her mouth while Mother looked as if she actually might swoon. Laura took up her fan and waved it furiously to calm her mother. “Mrs. Meuly, surely you should tell General Russell about this.”
Touching the Sky Page 6