Heart of Glass

by Jill Marie Landis

  “We’re here.” He reached down to give someone a shake. “We’re here, ma’am.”

  Someone in the wagon bed coughed. Before Kate cleared the front steps, two small heads with coal-black hair appeared over the side of the wagon. Kate found herself staring at two children, a girl and a boy. Then suddenly a woman sat up, grasped the side of the wagon, and broke into a fit of coughing. She was thin and pale, her dark hair limp and matted, but Kate would know her anywhere.

  “Amelie!” When Kate rushed to the wagon, it was indeed Amelie who grabbed Kate’s hand and held on tightly, wincing as if Kate’s hold might break every bone in her hand. Amelie’s lips trembled so hard she couldn’t speak as tears streamed down her pale cheeks.

  At the sight of her friend so forlorn and fragile, Kate started rambling to cover her shock.

  “I imagine this is quite a start, all of us lined up on the drive staring at you this way. Have you come a long way?” Kate turned to the children. “Why, don’t tell me these are your children, Amelie!” She leaned back and drank in the sight of the youngsters, mirror images of a young Amelie and Colin, except for the worry shadowing their eyes.

  Simon lowered the tailgate of the wagon so that Myra and Eugenie could help the children climb down. Amelie watched with a mother’s eye until they were safely on the ground.

  Amelie had barely moved. Kate enlisted Simon to lift her friend out of the wagon. Amelie’s condition was shocking. Her once-plump, rosy cheeks were sallow and sunken. A faded calico dress of fabric unfit for the rag bag hung from her thin shoulders. What terrible things must have happened to reduce her to this state?

  “Can you stand?” Kate asked.

  “I think so.” Amelie’s voice was hoarse. “But I’d appreciate the help walking.”

  As Kate took hold of her arm, Amelie introduced her to the kind farmer who had carried them all the way from Baton Rouge. Kate tried to imagine Amelie’s suffering on lumpy bags of rice and riding over pockmarked roads for hours.

  “No wonder you look exhausted.” But there was more to her friend’s haggard, stooped condition than exhaustion. “We’ll have you feeling right as rain in no time at all,” Kate promised.

  When the girl, older and taller than her brother, moved up beside Amelie, the boy trailed after his sister. He didn’t appear in the least shy, openly staring at Eugenie and Simon before taking in Myra and Kate.

  “These are my children. Marie is ten and Damian is four.” Looking at them, a light shone in Amelie’s eyes.

  “I’m almost five,” Damian added. “My birthday is in January.”

  “Then we’ll have to celebrate,” Kate assured him. She turned to Amelie. “At least I hope you have planned a long visit.” Amelie hadn’t mentioned the man with whom she’d run away during the war, so neither did Kate.

  Amelie looked toward the second-floor gallery, her eyes bright with tears.

  “Is Mama inside?” Her voice cracked.

  Simon cleared his throat and stared at the worn toes of his shoes. Eugenie pressed the back of her hand over her lips. Myra shut her eyes and whispered a prayer.

  “Let’s get you and the children inside, shall we?” Kate acknowledged the driver hovering beside the lead horse with a quick nod. She turned to Eugenie, afraid the cook was about to burst into tears.

  “I left my reticule on the trunk in the foyer,” Kate quietly told Eugenie. “Would you mind bringing it out to me?”

  Eugenie, looking ready to fall apart, seemed thankful for the excuse to leave. She hurried across the gallery. Kate rested her hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Eugenie has some molasses cookies in the kitchen. Why don’t you go with Myra and have some while your mama and I chat? There’s some fresh milk there too.”

  Damian reached for the hand Myra offered. His sister looked to her mother for permission first. “You go right ahead, honey.” Amelie fell into another fit of coughing. “I’ve known Myra since Katie and I were your age. She’ll take fine care of you.”

  Marie seemed hesitant to leave her mother, but when Amelie bid her go, she took Myra’s hand. They headed through the main house to the kitchen in back.

  “Do you have any bags?” Kate asked.

  Kate wanted to kick herself when Amelie bit her lips and shook her head no. Eugenie had collected herself by the time she returned with the reticule, and Kate paid the driver. When the man asked if he could water the team, Simon volunteered to show him where.

  With Kate and Eugenie flanking Amelie, they walked slowly into the house. They’d barely cleared the front door when Amelie looked around and whispered, “She’s gone, isn’t she? I can feel it. Mama’s not here.”

  They ushered Amelie into the sitting room. She moved as if in a trance as she looked around the sparsely furnished room. Eugenie left them as soon as Amelie was seated on a satin upholstered settee that had recently belonged to Nola Keene.

  “All of Mama’s lovely things are gone,” Amelie noted. She gazed around again, then met Kate’s eyes. “I don’t seem to have any tears left,” Amelie whispered. “I believe I’m all cried out and didn’t even know it.”

  “She’s been gone since ‘65,” Kate said. “There was no way to let you know.”

  “I broke her heart. I’m sure that’s what killed her.”

  “Your mama went upriver to live with your Baudier cousins not long after you left. She fell ill shortly afterward. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

  “I should have never run away.” Amelie’s smile was wistful when she looked at Kate. “How lucky you were that your father sent you up to Boston. The war …” she swallowed, shook her head, and squeezed Kate’s hands. “The war changed us all. We had to do things we would have never dreamed of, but the world was upside down, Kate. All upside down.”

  Kate had no notion what to say. Thanks to her father she had escaped the upheaval. In Boston there was a constant bombardment of news, but the war still seemed removed. While she’d lived in Ireland the conflict was easy to put out of her mind as she wandered green hillsides, sat in cozy cottages listening to lilting songs, or romped with her father’s Keene cousins. It was far too easy to forget all about the horrors in America, if not for days then at least for hours.

  Yesterday Colin accused her of having a heart full of hope. If she’d suffered all the tribulations of war firsthand, would her spirit have ended up in tatters too?

  Amelie stared around the room. “I don’t recognize any of these things.”

  “They’re from my mother’s townhouse. She recently sold it and remarried while traveling the continent.”

  “Nola remarried? Oh, Kate, your father’s gone?”

  “He died four years ago. I returned to New Orleans the minute I learned he was ill.”

  “At least you got to tell him good-bye.” Amelie pulled up the hem of her skirt and started to weep into the faded calico. Her hands were red and worn, her nails ragged. Kate reached out and stroked her friend’s limp hair and rubbed her back as one might comfort a child.

  When Amelie finally collected herself, she wiped her eyes and turned to Kate again. Apprehension was etched on her features.

  “Kate, dare I even hope that Colin is alive?”

  Kate had been dreading this moment. What if Colin wanted to turn out his sister?

  “Is he here?” Amelie asked.

  “He’s here.” Kate smiled to hide her worry.

  “That’s wonderful news.” Amelie started to rise and then sat back down. “Unless, of course, he’s angry with me. Is he angry, Kate? If it weren’t for the children, I’d never forgive myself for running off the way I did. But I can’t imagine life without Damian and Marie.”

  “Where is their father?” Kate was stymied. Where was the man now? What happened to Amelie since she left? “Did you marry?”

  “We did marry in Kansas, but I’d rather not speak of Billy Hart right now.”

  “Of course,” Kate said. “We have all the time in the world to talk.”

  When Amelie didn’t resp
ond Kate said, “Colin is living in the garçonnière.”

  “The garçonnière? Why?”

  “Let’s just say he’s not himself.” She went on to give Amelie the few details she knew of Colin’s reenlistment and his injury. “It’s left him bitter and angry.” Kate sighed. “I tried to help him. I wish I could have done more.” Amelie was in no condition to suffer a long explanation that would only give her more worry. “Actually, I’m all packed and was ready to leave.”

  Amelie frowned. “I never even asked why you were here. It just seems so right to find you here.” She paused, considering for a moment before she cried, “You can’t go now, Kate! Please stay.”

  “I’ve already overstayed my welcome, I’m afraid, but—”

  “Please, Kate. Now that I’m here, I’ll need you. The children will need you.”

  Amelie looked around, frantic. Kate saw the room through her friend’s eyes, the missing artwork and vases, the missing silver candelabra and pianoforte. Holes were in the plaster where sconces once flanked the fireplace. The mahogany mantel was splintered. None of Kate’s efforts had yet eradicated the visible signs of ill-use caused by the Yankees and the neglect that moved in after them.

  “Promise me you’ll stay.” Amelie broke into another fit of coughing, grabbed the hem of her skirt, bent and held it to her lips. When she sat up, Kate saw flecks of blood on the fabric. Her own blood ran cold.

  “Of course I’ll stay.” She would not leave Amelie in this state, not with two children in tow and no husband in sight. Not while there was no telling what Colin might do.

  They had all been brought together for a reason, just as Kate had hoped. There was no way she could leave now.

  “It seems like a dream,” Kate said.

  “It does, doesn’t it, Kate? We were so spoiled all our lives. We had everything and didn’t realize it. Now it’s as if our lives before the war never happened. We’ve nothing left but memories.” Amelie rested her head against the back of the settee and closed her eyes.

  “You’re home now. You can build a new life for yourself and the children,” Kate said.

  Amelie opened her eyes. “You’ve been kind not to comment on the way I look, but a blind man could see that I’m ill.” She took a shallow breath and a rattle escaped. “The truth is, I’m dying. I haven’t much time left and must know my children will be safe. I hoped my brother—”

  Shaken, Kate stopped her. “Don’t talk like that. I prayed that you’d come home and here you are. Now that you’re back, things will be wonderful again. Eugenie, Myra, and I will soon have you well. You’ll see.”

  Amelie shook her head. “I have consumption, Kate. The doctor said I’m not going to get well.”

  “Who said that? Some backwoods prairie doctor? What does he know?” Kate forced a laugh. The idea was nonsense. She refused to believe it. “You’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  “This isn’t something you can wish away, Kate. Not like the old days when we wished upon the evening star. This is something not even you can fix.” Amelie stared at her work-worn hands. “Not even you,” she whispered.

  Undeterred, Kate took hold of Amelie’s hand and drew her to her feet. “We’ll just see about that. Come on now, let’s get you upstairs. Your old room is all ready for you. The children can share Colin’s, since he’s not using it.” She would have Simon bring the child’s bed from the attic for Damian.

  “You won’t leave, will you, Kate? If Colin doesn’t want me and the children here, I don’t know what to do or where to go.” Simply walking from the sitting room to the stairs taxed Amelie. She grabbed hold of the banister as they started up. Kate clung to her elbow, careful not to hold too tight.

  “Never worry for a moment,” Kate said. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.” If Colin had the nerve to throw out his sister, then she would find lodging for them all in the city.

  The pallet Kate had used when she first arrived was put to use again that night. Amelie was so worn and fragile, so feverish by the time she had bathed and was tucked between clean sheets, that Kate hated to leave her alone. She bedded down on the floor beside Amelie. After a restless bout of fever and cold sweats, Amelie finally slept. Kate tossed and turned, her mind racing most of the night. She had no idea how Colin would take the news of his sister’s arrival, but he would be furious when he heard she was staying on at Amelie’s request.

  Her mind replayed the events from earlier that evening. After placing a cool compress on Amelie’s forehead, Kate had listened to her faint whispers as she told the story of her infatuation with Billy Hart, a Confederate enlisted man who walked away from his regiment.

  “I found him hiding behind the smokehouse one foggy winter morning,” Amelie said. “I hid him in a crawl hole beneath the barn and sneaked him what precious little food we could spare. He was only two years older than me, handsome and a real smooth talker. I was so starry-eyed, I fell in love with his sunshine-yellow hair and bright-blue eyes. He was bold and so charming that it only took him three days to talk me into running away with him to Kansas.

  “I asked Mama for permission but my mind was already made up. Yankees were running all over the house by then. Mama had moved out to the kitchen where Eugenie and Simon were always fussing and pampering her. She was trying to pretend none of it was happening, that the Yankees hadn’t really moved in. She would throw fits or burst into tears, and some days she even forgot the war was going on at all. When I told her about Billy and told her it was a way out for me, she still refused to give me her blessing, even when I begged her. She wanted me to stay home, to stay here at Belle Fleuve.”

  “But you went anyway,” Kate said.

  Amelie whispered, “I did. I should have listened to Mama. I should have stayed for her sake, but I was selfish and scared.”

  “And in love.”

  “We sneaked off without telling Mama good-bye. Up until little Marie was born, I regretted nearly every day of my life in Kansas. Most of the time Billy left me home alone with his parents. I was forced to do farm work. They barely eked out a living on their farm.” She sighed. It was a ragged sound. “I’m simply too spent to tell you the rest, Kate, but two months ago Billy was killed in a gunfight in Dodge.”

  Her voice had barely reached Kate in the darkness. Her friend’s weakness added to Kate’s mounting worry. Kate finally gave up tossing to stare at the ceiling. She tried to equate the life Amelie had lived in Kansas with memories of the two of them running through luxuriously appointed rooms playing hide-and-seek and teasing the smug French dance teacher, who was forced to put up with the antics of the spoiled offspring of wealthy planters. Together they had dreamed of the galas they would attend after the war, the gowns they would wear, and the handsome gentlemen who would line up eager to court them. One of their last times together, they had polkaed around this very room — the night Kate had kissed a pillow and pretended her imaginary suitor was Colin.

  Those gilded days were over now, vanished like the thriving cane fields of Belle Fleuve; but at least they had survived — she and Amelie and Colin — and though her own strength was being tested, Kate was convinced they would all thrive again.

  Up well before dawn, Kate looked in on the children in the room next door as Amelie slept on. Sometime during the night, Damian had left his own bed and crawled in with Marie. The two slept holding hands as Kate smiled down at them.

  She hurriedly dressed — all her things still in bags and trunks that had been hauled back upstairs by Simon and deposited in the guest room she would share with Myra. Out in the kitchen she found Eugenie piling hot biscuits on a plate for Colin. The cook added a slice of ham steak and slathered it with gravy.

  “I’ll take the tray out to him,” Kate volunteered.

  “Are you sure?” Eugenie paused in the act of pouring a cup of coffee.

  Kate nodded. “I must tell him Amelie is back.”

  “What if he turns her out?”

  “This is her home too. I’m just so thankfu
l the place wasn’t sold or boarded up when she arrived.”

  “That poor child.” Eugenie’s eyes filled with tears. She shook her head. “What’s gonna become of those children when she goes?”

  Kate’s fear flared in the form of anger.

  “That kind of talk must stop immediately, Eugenie. Amelie is going to be just fine. We’re all going to see to it.”

  Looking doubtful, the cook finished readying Colin’s tray in silence. Eugenie didn’t have to say a word; Kate could tell the woman didn’t believe it.

  “I mean it now.” Kate fought to reassure herself as much as Eugenie. “She’s going to be just fine. Good as new in no time.”

  A few minutes later Kate was standing outside Colin’s door. She knocked gently, and there was a pause before he called out for her to enter.

  “I thought you left yesterday.”

  “I’m still here.”

  “Lucky me.”

  She set down the tray. “You are lucky indeed. The most wonderful thing has happened.”

  “You’ve decided to leave today and never return?”

  “Actually, no. I may be staying for quite a while now.”

  “Listen here, Miss Keene—”

  “Your sister is home, Colin.”

  He went completely still. Kate walked over to the table, pulled out a chair, carried it closer to the bed, and sat.

  “Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?” He shook his head.

  “Thank you, I will.” She smoothed her skirt over her knees.

  “Why didn’t she come to see me herself? Is she too ashamed? Or too afraid?”

  “Ashamed of what she did? Or afraid of your reaction?”

  He crossed his arms and waited for an answer. This man, this hard-hearted Colin, didn’t deserve her concern or her care, but Amelie did. Instead of walking away as she was tempted to do, she took a deep breath and met his hard gaze.

  “She’s worn out, Colin. It was a long, trying journey and her life has been far from easy. In fact, she’s admitted that running off was a big mistake.”

  “So now she’s come crawling back.”