This Time Forever

by Linda Swift

  "All right." She waited for his question with a feeling of dread, knowing before he went on that it had something to do with her sister.

  "I want to know about the man Angeline loves—the man she rejected me for."

  "Well," Clarissa sought to be honest without being hurtful, "Devon O’Conner is a fine person. Not handsome, not wealthy, not educated."

  "Then why? Why him and not me?"

  "Who can say what the heart’s reasons are for loving, Nathan? I’m sure I can’t."

  "And do you like him?"

  "I didn’t at first. I judged him by his lack of the things I have mentioned. But he is kind and loyal and brave, just as you are, and I came to appreciate him for those qualities after a time."

  "I wish him dead. Then Angeline would come back to me."

  "Oh, Nathan, don’t say that. If he should die, it would be a heavy burden that would haunt you all of your life."

  He looked at her thoughtfully. "Perhaps you’re right."

  Clarissa touched his shoulder. "I would have been so pleased to have you for a brother-in-law, Nathan, but we must both respect Angeline’s wishes. It is better not to marry than to marry without love."

  "Good morning, Colonel Forsythe, Mrs. Wakefield," Philip said as he came into the dining room. As they returned his greeting, he said to Clarissa. "Please make preparations for removing the stitches now."

  As she took off the bandages and cleansed the area, Philip offered Nathan a small glass of whiskey, then snipped and pulled. "There, that wasn’t too painful, was it?"

  Nathan didn’t seem to notice the question as Clarissa placed a mirror in his hand and stood smiling while he slowly brought it to his face. After staring at his image for a long time, he looked at Philip who stood quietly at one side of the cot. "Thank you, Major." He extended his hand. "It’s a good job of stitching, for a Yankee."

  "Don’t thank me." Philip shook his hand. "General Grant owed you this." He turned to Clarissa. "Mrs. Wakefield, I was wondering if you could accompany me to the army supply depot this afternoon? Since you’ll be in charge of the patients here when I leave tomorrow, you need to familiarize yourself with the procedures for obtaining the necessary supplies."

  "Yes, I believe I can do that," she told him in a barely audible voice, not meeting his eyes for fear of giving away their secret.

  "Fine, then meet me downstairs at two o’clock. I’ll ask Luke to have the landau ready. And as long as we are near the station, we may as well wait until the evening train comes in and check for any soldiers on it. If so, and they are able to travel in a sitting position, it might save Luke a trip in the wagon."

  "Of course. I’ll tell Polly not to expect me back until late."

  Clarissa rushed up the stairs, almost colliding with Polly before she saw her in the upper hallway. "Polly, I was just coming to find you." She repeated her afternoon plans. "I’ll nurse Elliot now, and I’d like a tub of hot water, please. I need to freshen up a bit."

  "Yes, Missa. I bring it up soon as the watah heat."

  Clarissa opened her armoire and took stock of her meager wardrobe. She had one black silk dress which Polly had made for her mourning. She would have to wear that, of course, to allay suspicion here, and gossip in town. But even as her wedding would be clandestine, so, too, would be her gown. She would select the loveliest dress she owned and wear it underneath her widow’s weeds and none would be the wiser. But she would know, and in her heart, she would imagine herself without the black. And perhaps she could also reveal the subterfuge to Philip if the occasion arose.

  Sprinkling her tub liberally with rose water, Clarissa indulged herself with a long bath, washing her hair and letting it dry as she soaked. When Polly appeared to assist her, she permitted the servant to help with her corset and crinolines, then motioned her out with a dismissive wave.

  "Please, take the boys down for their dinner, and then see to their naps. I can manage the rest without any help."

  "It jes ain’t fittin’ for a lady to dress herself for goin’ out, Missa. What this world comin’ to?" Polly mumbled as she went to do her mistress’s bidding.

  Clarissa smiled to herself as she selected a peach eyelet gown she’d worn only for special occasions and put it on over her crinoline. Then, she pulled the black reps silk on over that and arranged her hair up into a becoming twist and fastened it with a pearl comb.

  Dressed now, too nervous and excited to risk an encounter with the others or to eat her dinner, she sat in her room waiting impatiently for two o’clock. Philip was leaving tomorrow, but they had today, and she would think only of that. Downstairs, she could hear the notes of the piano, and wondered if Philip was also biding time with barely concealed anticipation. He was playing a classical piece of Beethoven, one she had often requested, and she knew it was for her. Would he play for her in the evenings when they were man and wife, living in their own home surrounded by their children? Man and wife. Just thinking the words sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through her veins.

  A few minutes before the hour, Clarissa stood and put on her black bonnet, then pulled on her gloves and went downstairs. Philip waited for her at the bottom of the steps, wearing his best blue coat, and she caught her breath at how handsome he was. From the way his glance encompassed her, she knew that he found her pleasing, too.

  "You look lovely, Clarissa," he said softly, and she smiled with the secret knowledge of the other ensemble she wore beneath the visible one.

  She tilted her head and answered. "Thank you, Major. Shall we go now?"

  "By all means." He offered her his arm and she laid her hand on the freshly-pressed sleeve and felt him tremble.

  The day was hot and still, and the wheels of the landau left a cloud of dust behind them as Philip drove beyond the brick streets toward the army barracks.

  "Are you satisfied with your decision of last night, Clarissa? No regrets?"

  "None," she declared solemnly. "And you, Major, did your unexpected letter cause you second thoughts about your commitment?" The question was asked lightly, and she was surprised at the apprehension she felt waiting for his reply.

  It was a long time in coming. He seemed to be debating something in his mind before he spoke. "No, the letter had no bearing on my commitment to you. The woman we speak of has tended my brother’s child since his wife’s unfortunate death. And she wrote to tell me that she is marrying my brother."

  "Oh," Clarissa stopped, took a quick breath of relief. "But I should think that will be very awkward for you."

  "Katherine Kingsley was my brother’s sister-in-law. Now, she will be mine. I couldn’t have a finer one."

  "I only meant—"

  "Clarissa, my darling, I doubt very much if we shall ever encounter the two of them, but if we should, I assure you it will not present a problem."

  "Then we shall never live in Oswego?" she asked curiously.

  "I have already said I don’t believe that would be a feasible option for us."

  "And you are willing to be estranged from your family forever because of me?"

  "There are many reasons, Clarissa. You are only one of them. And I want us to be happy together."

  "I could be happy anywhere with you, Philip," she said fervently.

  "And I with you."

  They had reached the camp and Philip drove them to the supply depot where he made good on his stated objective for the trip by showing her what she needed to procure for the hospital in his absence. Then they drove to the barracks where the chaplain waited. And in a crude wooden hut with no windows, and the flies and mosquitoes their only witnesses, they stood together, hand in hand, and repeated their solemn vows. The stench of a nearby ditch overflowing with waste was heavy in the heat of the afternoon sun, but neither seemed to notice as they raptly gazed at each other while the chaplain pronounced them man and wife.

  Philip bent to place a chaste kiss on Clarissa’s lips and the chaplain shook hands with them and then they were back in the landau driving away from t
he camp.

  "We have quite a while until the train is due, Mrs. Burke, so I thought I’d like to drive out into the country if you don’t mind."

  She smiled with pleasure at the sound of her new title, and answered with a slight tilt of her head, "I’d be delighted, Major Burke."

  Philip drove the horses to the edge of the city and beyond and when they took a narrow road that led into a wooded area, Clarissa gave him an inquiring look.

  "It’s perfectly safe, my darling. We’re going to a place Devon told me about where a cool, clear stream runs down off the mountain, and there, we’ll have a wedding picnic."

  "How lovely." Her smile faded. "But we didn’t bring any food."

  "Wait and see." He guided the horses to a stop and hitched them to a nearby tree, then took a hamper from the back of the landau. "Stay here until I call you," he told her.

  He spread a blanket on the shady ground and placed the contents of the hamper on it, taking out last a large bouquet of white roses. And as he worked, Clarissa remained in the landau, out of his sight, busily removing her outer gown and bonnet before she joined him. With only the slightest hesitation, she also removed her crinolines. Philip was accustomed to seeing her this way and she would have more freedom to enjoy the picnic without their encumbrance.

  "And now, I invite you to your wedding celebration, my dar—" Walking toward the landau, he stopped as she emerged, wearing her pale peach gown.

  "You’re so beautiful," he said softly. "My bride." They came together, and he took her in his arms, pressed her close as she lifted her face to receive his kiss. "My wife," he said softly, and looked into her luminous brown eyes with his clear deep blue. Then, his mouth claimed hers again and the kiss deepened as she felt his arousal growing against her, and a surge of longing from the center of her own femininity responded.

  His lips whispered love words in her ear, then burned a fiery trail down her neck to her breasts which strained against her bodice for his touch. "My darling Clarissa, I want you so much, but first, you must partake of the wedding feast I’ve brought for you." With effort, he released her and led the way to the blanket spread with food and she gasped in delighted surprise.

  "Where on earth did you get all this?"

  "Harriet prepared the biscuits and ham. And Luke found the bottle of champagne. Said he’d been saving it for something special and he thought my farewell picnic qualified."

  Clarissa laughed. "Imagine how shocked he’d be if he knew it was also our wedding feast."

  "I think he’d be very pleased."

  "And fresh peaches and grapes. How wonderful."

  "I’d like to have given you a wedding supper at a fine hotel. And a ceremony with music and flowers."

  "You did give me music," she smiled at him, "I heard you playing before we left."

  "And here are your flowers, my love." He placed the bouquet of roses in her hand. "Now, I want you to sit there and let me adore you while I serve your supper."

  He prepared a plate for her and one for himself. Then, he filled two glasses with wine and gave one to her. "To our marriage and everlasting love," he said, and they touched the rim of their glasses together and drank.

  Clarissa ate the food Philip had served, but her sense of awareness was entirely on the man beside her, his every word and look and touch sending a promise of the banquet to come. She watched with fascination as his slender hands peeled the skin from a ripe peach, then brought a small portion to her lips. She took the slice into her mouth, then gently licked the juice that dripped from his fingers. Slowly, he moved closer and his tongue touched her lips, sampling the taste of fruit that lingered there. Suddenly, he put down the peach, and pulled her into his arms, crushing her to him. His tongue plunged deep into her mouth as he laid her back into a reclining position on the blanket.

  "My darling Clarissa, how long I’ve waited for this moment." Trembling in his eagerness to possess her, he ravished her face and throat with hungry kisses, then pushed aside her bodice as he smothered a groan of ecstasy, burying his face in the valley that separated the firm creamy mounds.

  He pushed her voluminous skirt aside and stroked her dimity-clad thighs, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and arched impatiently toward his roving hand. He moved to the center opening of her undergarment and explored her bare, hot flesh as she writhed and made soft mewling sounds that sent him to new heights of arousal. His plunging fingers and tongue dipped into her moist recesses in a simultaneous rhythm with a rising crescendo that culminated in her muffled cry of release as she went limp in his arms.

  Then as he crooned soft words of love in her ear, he gently entered her, bringing a renewed desire to her sated passion. Moving with restraint, he willed himself to go slowly, to hold back the length of himself until she was ready and eager to receive him. Gripping his shoulders in urgent invitation, she began to move beneath him, and he thrust into her with wild abandon until she cried out with renewed pleasure; then, with a convulsive shudder, he found his own release.

  Sinking beside her, his body still merged with hers, he stroked the side of her face and whispered. "I would have waited forever to know this moment. I will remember it as long as I live."

  "And I," she answered softly, knowing for the first time what it truly meant to be one with another human being.

  The shadows lengthened as they lay together in a stillness broken only by the water flowing in the nearby stream and the birds singing in the trees that formed the canopy of their marriage bed.

  At last, Philip said with a sigh, "I wish we could stay here forever, but we really must go now."

  Clarissa chose one perfect rose from her bridal bouquet and tucked it next to her heart. "In remembrance of our love," she said, then laid the flowers beneath the tree where they had consummated their vows.

  While Philip packed the remains of their feast, Clarissa donned her black silk dress and then they reluctantly returned to the city and their everyday world.

  • ♥ •

  Philip placed his neatly folded clothing in his haversack and closed the fasteners. All was in readiness now for his departure at dawn. He had said his goodbyes to the family and servants, and left instructions for the patients who remained. It had been difficult to maintain a platonic facade toward Clarissa all evening when her swollen lips and faintly flushed face bore evidence of their secret passion-filled afternoon.

  He turned the lamp low and walked to the window, gazing down on the shadowed silhouette of the grounds. In his mind, he could see the brick walk leading to the vine-covered gazebo, the shady veranda, the towering oaks, and he knew he would take the memory with him always, as he would take the image and scent and feel of Clarissa.

  A slight noise made him turn just as the door opened softly.

  "Philip?" Clarissa came into the room and closed the door behind her. He drew his breath in sharply at the sight of her. She wore a long gown of soft white fabric that revealed her enticing curves and her hair flowed freely about her shoulders.

  "My love." He crossed the distance between them and took her in his arms. "You came to me."

  "I want to spend one night with you and wake up in your arms," she whispered.

  "Then you shall, my darling wife." Philip wrapped his hand in her rose-scented hair and lifted her face and brushed her lips with his, then with gentle fingers unfastened the ties of her bodice. He eased the material from her shoulders and slowly caressed the curves of her breasts as he felt himself grow turgid with desire. With one deft movement, her gown fell to the floor and pooled around her feet. "Let me look at you, Clarissa. Let me remember you like this."

  Proudly, she stood before him, offering her beautiful body for his pleasure. The lamplight cast enticing shadows on the peaks and valleys of her breasts as they rose and fell with each quick breath she drew. With a groan of desire, he fell to his knees and buried his face in the golden triangle at the center of her womanhood. He clasped his arms around her and lavished her with his tongue until she sw
ayed and would have fallen if he had not caught her up and carried her to his bed.

  The summer heat bathed them in a sheen of moisture and dampened the bed where they lay as through the long night they gave themselves to each other, exploring, delighting in learning and speaking the language of love. When exhaustion overcame them, they rested; then renewed by the urgency of their parting, they made love to each other again.

  Finally, in the first faint light of dawn, they said their last farewell and Clarissa crept back to her bed. Looking after her retreating figure in the shadowed hallway, Philip cursed the wretched war that forced their parting, not remembering it was the same war that had brought them together.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Chattanooga, December 1864

  The bare limbs of winter trees reached toward the dull gray sky as though in supplication, and a cold mist hung over the city, obscuring the river and mountains surrounding it. A chill permeated the upstairs sitting room at Whitehaven, and Clarissa shivered and pulled her shawl closer and continued her knitting. The fireplaces on the lower floor were without heat, not because there was a lack of wood to be had, but because there was no one to get it. The voices and music had been replaced by silence. All of the sick and wounded soldiers were gone now, and rows of empty cots were pushed against the walls. Nathan alone remained, and he had moved into Philip's room upstairs in order to help with Josiah Wakefield.

  It had been four months since she said goodbye to Philip, but it seemed an eternity. And his frequent letters, prudently addressed to all of them, did little to satisfy her terrible longing for his return.

  The front door opened, sending a blast of cold air upward and Clarissa peered over the banister to see Mary Jane removing her muddy boots. Coming up the stairs, she also removed her blue velvet cape and bonnet, dropped it onto the sofa and sat down beside it.

  "There is no flour to be had anywhere in this town." She shook her head as she picked up her own knitting basket and took out a half-finished sock. "I suppose we'll have to send Luke to Fleur-de-Lis again."