I breathed rapidly with my chest pressed up against his wet shirt and savored the smell of fresh rain and his clean, woody scent. He traced his fingers along the small of my back, and I shivered. I placed my ear against him and listened to the rate of his heartbeat increase as my hands slid over the contours of hardened muscles along his spine.
He suddenly pushed away from me and stared out the window with his hands clenched at his sides.
My heart sank. “What’s wrong?” I whispered, reluctant to let the moment pass.
When he returned his gaze to me his eyes had darkened, the pupils so wide the narrow ring of blue looked like an eclipsed azure sun. “Standing there with you… feeling you so close,” he said, his husky voice gliding over me like a velvet glove. “I….” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, his Adams apple bobbing. When he reopened his eyes, they were softer. “I’m afraid it’s too much for me.”
I didn’t move, unsure what to make of the situation.
I wrapped my arms around chest. “I’m sorry.”
He smiled, the humor returning to his gaze. “I think I should go downstairs and borrow a towel from Dee while you get dried off.” He darted through the open door and down the hall.
I stood for a moment, dumbfounded. Finding no answers scrawled across the floor, I finally closed the door and changed into a new pair of jeans and a fresh shirt and then pulled my damp hair into a bun.
I walked down the stairs, listening to the fury of the storm beating against the windows. Dee’s voice drifted to me as I reached the bottom of the stairs, and I paused. They were talking in the kitchen. I chastised myself for what I was about to do, but did it anyway.
I slid forward slowly, keeping close to the wall. Dee’s voice got louder as I made my way through the foyer before stopping far enough back from the kitchen so as not to be seen, but close enough to hear.
“I know,” she said. “But we can’t make her stay.”
“Dee, I don’t want her to go. I don’t think… I don’t know if I can take it.”
There was a long silence. My breathing seemed much too loud, so I held my breath, wondering if they had heard me.
“I’ve never seen you act this way,” Dee said at last.
“I’ve never had a woman make me feel this way. I don’t know what to do. She’s tearing me up. One moment she’s this sweet, imaginative girl so full of hope and life, and the next she looks at everyone as if they are her enemies. Times like that her face grows hard, and all the laughter leaves her eyes. It kills me when they lose that sparkle.”
I chewed my lip. Is that how he saw me?
“She’s been through a lot. She just needs some time. I think she’ll come around.”
Luke barked a bitter laugh. “I guess we’ll never know, will we? As soon as she gets rid of that house she’ll be gone.”
“Running may be the only thing she knows. Maybe you should give her a reason to stay.”
“I tried.”
My heart dropped to my toes.
The cabinets rattled, followed by the sound of Dee starting to remove plates and stacking them on the counter. It seemed like the best time to make my presence known, so I stepped into the kitchen. They both turned to look at me. Dee smiled, but Luke only studied me.
“Quite a storm we got out there,” Dee said. If she knew I’d been listening she didn’t let on.
Luke said nothing. I tore my gaze from him and glanced out the window. The rain came down sideways, and leaves that had been ripped from the trees hurled across the yard. “Yeah.”
Uncomfortable silence stalked the room like a hungry tiger. I looked at Luke. His damp hair fell disheveled across his forehead and I suddenly felt unsteady. He met my gaze. I quickly dropped my eyes.
“What’s for supper?” I said on a wobbly voice and stepped over to Dee to help with the dishes to avoid further eye contact with Luke.
“Peas, cornbread, and pork chops.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Just start setting the table, the food’s ready. Do ya’ll want to eat in here or the dining room?”
“Here’s fine,” Luke said behind us.
I gathered the plates and started putting them on the table. I walked around to where Luke sat last, trying to perform the impossible task of staying away from his magnetic form while placing the last plate in front of him.
The lights flickered.
“Good thing I already got all the food cooked,” Dee said. “Luke, why don’t you go ahead and get those candles and flashlights down from the hall closet. Looks like we may need them.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Luke stepped out, and I started pulling forks from the drawer.
Dee grabbed my arm. “Emily.”
I stopped, but didn’t look at her. “Yes?”
“Child, one day you’re going to look around and realize you let every good thing in your life go because you were too scared to face it.” She let go of my arm and turned back to the stove.
I gathered the forks and paper napkins and put them on the table next to the plates, swallowing down the lump in my throat. I never could remember what side the forks go on. I know the fork and knife are supposed to go on opposite sides of the plate, but I always end up putting both on the napkin on the right side. Probably because I eat with my right hand. I let my mind skip along a safe line of thinking and concentrated placing the utensils an equal distance apart.
The table set, the only other thing to do now was to fill the glasses with ice. I’d taken two steps in that direction when the lights flickered once and then went out.
I grabbed the back of one of the kitchen chairs, suddenly thrown into pitch-black. “Dee?”
“Over here. Hold on, I’m coming.”
Feet shuffled across the floor and Dee placed her hand on my arm. Quiet settled over the house.
“Luke!” Dee called out. “Where are you?”
“I can’t find the—” his words were cut off by a loud crash.
My throat tightened. “Luke!” No reply. I hurried from the kitchen, stumbling and bumping into things, my arms stretched out in front of me. I felt along the wall, trying to find my way in the dark. My hand hit something solid on the wall and it tumbled. I tried to catch it, but the only reward I got for my effort was slamming my knee into a piece of lowlying furniture. A soft thud, and then the picture hit the cushioned seat of the small bench from which my shin would soon boast a nasty bruise. Relieved I had not broken any of Dee’s property, I rubbed the sore place on my knee and eased my way around the bench.
I had just reached the banister of the staircase when a flashlight beam blinded me. “Oww!” I scrunched my eyes, trying to shield them from the painful light.
“Emily! I’m sorry.” Luke pointed the beam to the floor. “Are you okay?”
“What’s going on in there? Y’all all right?” Dee called.
“Yeah,” Luke replied. “We’re fine.” He grinned. “Come on, I found them.” He handed me a box of mismatched candles.
I took it and followed him back into the kitchen. His light swept over Dee, who was still standing right where I left her in my irrational attempt to spring to Luke’s rescue. “What happened?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting. “Sounded like the ceiling crashed in there.”
Luke rummaged around in the drawers until he found a lighter and then he grabbed a candle from my box and lit it. The flame sprang to life, chasing the shadows from his face. “I tried to pull the box down from the top of the closet and a bunch of other stuff on that shelf came down with it. I think there are board game pieces all over the floor.”
“You didn’t answer when we called for you,” Dee said, glancing at me. “We thought you were hurt.” We indeed. I shot her a grateful look.
Luke grabbed another candle from the box and offered us a lopsided smile before adding the candle to the one already on the table. “Sorry.”
Soon we had a collection of flickering flames in the middle of the tabletop. As I pulled the last c
andle from the box and lit it from another wick, I looked at Dee. “Are we still going to eat?”
Lightning flared outside and a loud crack rattled the window. We all jumped. “Bet that one got my oak,” Dee said, grumbling. “Well, everything’s cooked, so we might as well eat it.” She pointed a finger at Luke. “You only get one glass of tea, though, because I don’t want to open the refrigerator too much and lose all the cold air. No telling how long the power is going to be out.”
I filled our glasses as quickly as possible, opening the refrigerator door just wide enough to free the tea pitcher. We sat at the table and served ourselves family style, and when we finished passing the platters around Luke bowed his head for the blessing. Dee and I followed suit.
“Father, we thank you for your hand of protection. Please keep it over us throughout this and other storms in our lives. Show us your will, Father. I ask for your hand to be on Emily. Bring her to you. Guide her, Lord. I know she needs you. I thank you for her, and I ask you touch her life and show her your goodness.”
After several seconds of silence I dared a quick peek at Luke. His head was still bowed. I quickly shut my eyes.
“And Father, if it is your will, I ask for her to stay here. Please give her the thing her heart desires most. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Amen,” Dee said a little too loudly.
I looked at Luke, but he didn’t meet my eyes. Both he and Dee seemed very interested in their plates.
I pushed my food around, finally picking up a small forkful of peas. I chewed them thoughtfully in the silence. I found myself uncannily comfortable, surprised by how quickly I’d become relaxed at Dee’s, even during the odd moments that often followed the mealtime return of thanks that might usher in unknown repercussions on my life. Especially like that last one. What a doozy.
“Do you think God really does that?” I blurted before I could stop the words from tumbling out.
“Do what, dear?” Dee asked.
“Give people what they want the most. Doesn’t he just do whatever it is he wants?”
“Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart,” Luke said without looking up from his plate.
I chewed a piece of cornbread and thought that over. “What if someone’s greatest desire is to steal a billion dollars and live like a king?” I was only half kidding.
Luke looked at me, his expression serious. “Then he is not delighting himself in the Lord. And God never gives something contradictory to his nature or his law.”
“So he only grants desires in line with what he wants to do,” I said, smug sarcasm coloring my words.
“In a way,” Dee said, unfazed by my tone. “But the pure desires come from him anyway. The desire to become a better person, the desire for family…for love. Those things are good things—things God has given us.”
“Oh.” I kept eating, deciding against any further questions into vague spiritual subjects. We finished the remainder of the meal in silence, and then Luke excused himself from the table.
“I’ll have to call it a night, ladies. Sorry for the mess in the hall, Dee.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” she said, gathering the dirty dishes and dumping them in the sink. “I’ll take care of it in the morning.”
Luke turned to me. “Good night, Emily. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I studied him a moment. The candlelight flickered across his features, creating shadows. I couldn’t be sure, but he looked like he wanted me to say something. He waited, but all I could manage was a lame, “Okay. Good night.”
One corner of his mouth pulled up into a sad half-smile, and then he took one of the flashlights and disappeared through the house. In a moment, we heard the front door latch.
Dee said, “Well, I think I’ll head on upstairs. There’s nothing much to do in the dark, so I’m going to make an early night of it and give these old bones a rest.” She gave me a quick hug. “I’ll take a couple of these candles. You can take that flashlight.”
“Okay.” I blew out the rest of the candles on the table and followed Dee from the kitchen, the flashlight beam illuminating our feet. I tried to keep it shining between Dee’s pants legs, thinking it would be much easier if I were in the lead. But then, Dee had walked this house thousands of times and could probably do it without my aid, so I kept the beam low and followed her past the toppled painting.
In the foyer, cardboard boxes, multicolored cards and tiny game pieces littered the hardwood floor. We stepped around them and scaled the staircase. Dee stopped at my door. “Good night, honey. See you in the morning.”
“Good night, Dee.”
I closed the door behind me and sat on the bed. I shined the bright beam on my watch. Five after eight. I dropped to my knees and squeezed the flashlight under my chin so I could have a free hand to fish around under the bed. I grazed the bundle I sought and pulled the diary from its hiding place. Only a few pages remained. I thumbed through all I’d read over the last weeks, relieved and depressed it would soon come to an end.
Oh, well. Such was life. Always moving, always changing. No sense dragging it out. I placed the book on the comforter and quickly got ready for bed as best I could in the dark.
The wind howled and pounded on my window, but I felt safe under the thick protection of Dee’s quilts. Feeling like a child again, I snuggled into the covers and illuminated the worn pages, the faded ink causing my eyes to strain.
Within a few words, I was back at Ironwood.
October 10, 1862
They are here. I must write quickly, but there is much to say. I fear this will be my last chance. Then Tommy will hide this book away so they will never find it. If they know of my friendship with Ruth, all will be lost. Besides, I have no desire for strange men to know the secrets of my heart or the locations of my treasures.
Oh, how I wish Charles were here. The battle is over, yet still I’ve heard nothing about him. His name was not on the list of the dead, so I still have hope. I pray he will return soon and drive the intruders from our home.
They came this morning, seven or eight of them. They knocked on the door like civilized gentlemen and asked to speak with the man of the house. Ruth came to get me and I had to greet enemies in my parlor.
It sickened me to tell them I alone occupied the house while my husband proudly defended our land, but I maintained my composure and conducted myself in a way that would have made Mother proud.
I entered the room holding my head high, trying to exude an air of confidence and aristocracy I did not feel. “Good morning, gentlemen. I am Mrs. Charles Harper. My husband is away, and I represent Ironwood in his absence. What brings you to our humble farm?”
A tall man with a thick mustache appeared to be the leader, though his blue uniform gave me no indication of his rank. “Good day to you, madam. I am Captain Edward Thomas, third in command to General Rosecrans, United States. We have come to request the use of your splendid home as a temporary lodging for my officers and myself.”
Knowing the word “request” was highly inaccurate, I dipped my chin. “And what do you gentlemen expect with your accommodations?”
A few of the men shuffled their feet, two of them exchanging glances and sideways grins. Captain Thomas shot them a disapproving glare, and then returned his attention to me, his face composed. “Meals, clean linen and the use of your third floor.”
I tilted my head. “The ballroom?”
“It affords a prime view of the encampment.”
A chill snaked down my spine and it required all of my composure to keep my face passive. “What encampment?”
“Our troops will settle in the flatland just below the house.”
My temper flared. “But those are our fields! Soldiers will destroy all hope of our crops. We have not yet finished our harvest and I need that cotton to pay…” I stopped myself short. They did not need to know what I had done or what I needed. I could not afford to give them any more leverage than t
hey already possessed. I snapped my jaw together and between clenched teeth said, “Never mind.”
Captain Thomas stiffened. “Our presence here provides you a measure of safety. Perhaps you would prefer we chose another location and left your plantation to the mercy of battle?”
I rose to my full height, determined not to show weakness. “If I allow you to stay, and my girls and I prepare your meals and tend to your linens, then do I have your word you will leave Ironwood unharmed?”
He gave a curt nod. “To the best of my ability, you have my word that it will be so.”
I have little trust in the word of an intruder, but it is the only thread of hope I can cling to. My concerns and feelings are no longer of consequence. All that matters now is I will do what I must to save Ironwood and protect those under my care.
I had Ruth show them the guest rooms and I have decided I will move the girls into the nursery, since it has no door upstairs and can only be entered from Charles’s parents’ room below, where I shall reside. It will offer me more security and the ability to avoid the main stairwell. Tommy will soon add an extra lock to the door, and I know where Charles stored his pistol.
I cannot believe Lucy has gone, but I cannot dwell on it now. Ruth, Betsy and I will be working side by side, no longer separated by social standards. I will step into their shoes as I will now become a servant in my own home. No doubt the soldiers will want their washing and mending done as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if we were also polishing boots.
But that will be all they get from me and my girls. Anything more they try to take, and Lord help me, I will stab them in their sleep and poison their soup.
I will do what I must to keep Ironwood. I will sacrifice whatever I have to keep her standing. Even if that means I must go from lady to servant. I will not flee and leave Ironwood to their mercy. I will stand for as long as I can. And if I have to, I will help Ruth and the others get out if it is the only way I can save them. I fear what the future holds for us here. If there is a chance things can change for them, I will do what I can to make it so.
My time is drawing short. If the Lord grants me my request, someday the right one will find this. It will be one who cares for my Ironwood, who loves her as I do. Maybe she will tell our story. If the Lord grants the desires of my heart, perhaps she will even be one of my grandchildren or my grandchildren’s grandchildren, one from a long line of Harpers who live and love in Ironwood. My heir of hope.
Heir of Hope: Return to Ironwood Plantation (Ironwood Plantation Family Saga Book 2) Page 22