“I believe you are correct.”
David didn’t know what to say next. He wanted to make Trudy feel better in some way, but he didn’t know how. He wanted to make up for what he had done to Elizabeth but had no idea where to even begin.
“Will you then come?” she asked. “For supper?”
He drew in a breath. He still wasn’t certain it was such a good idea, but he knew he had to do something. He wanted to be there for Trudy’s sake, if nothing else. “What time should I arrive?”
Her face brightened. “Around seven.”
“Seven it is, then.” Though it pleased him that he had made her happy, it was her sister’s smile he most wanted to see.
* * *
Elizabeth heard the front door shut. Wanting to apologize to her mother for not lending whatever assistance she could, she hurried for the staircase. Trudy was in the foyer. She had a happy look on her face, so Elizabeth assumed the silver had brought a good price.
“Did Mother’s meeting go well?” she asked.
The look faded to a more cautious one. “I don’t know. She hasn’t returned yet.”
“I thought I heard the door.”
“You did. It was...David.”
“David?” Elizabeth blinked. “David Wainwright?”
“Yes.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “What was he doing here?”
Trudy stepped toward the staircase and leaned against the banister. “He has returned to Baltimore. Apparently he’s taken a job with one of the local papers, although he did not say which one.”
Oh, no, Elizabeth thought. That means today’s visit more than likely will not be the last. Why would he come back to Baltimore? He always said that when his enlistment was over he would go back to his job at the Boston Journal.
She pondered for a moment. Perhaps Trudy had misunderstood. Perhaps the Boston paper had sent him here on assignment. If that is the case, then he will not be in town for very long. I can simply avoid him.
Trudy still held the rail. She now looked rather sheepish. “I invited him for supper tonight.”
Panic spread over Elizabeth. “Supper? Oh, Trudy, what were you thinking? I can’t sit across the table and make polite conversation with that man!”
“That man? Beth, he’s family, and I believe he is grieving as deeply as you. Perhaps even more so. He regrets interfering. He told me so himself.”
Indignation tightened Elizabeth’s jaw. He may indeed regret what he has done, but it doesn’t change anything, and it doesn’t make the thought of supper with him any more bearable.
“You could be a help to one another,” Trudy insisted.
“I don’t see how.”
“You could be a comfort to each other. You could also be a comfort to Mother. I know it will do her good to see him.”
Elizabeth seriously doubted she or David could benefit from the presence of each other, but Trudy had a point. Their mother liked him. She always had. When Elizabeth had worked at the hospital, Mother had often visited the wounded men. She would bring fresh bread and flowers to cheer them. While some of the Northern soldiers did not wish to be bothered with the local civilians, David had always treated her mother with courtesy and respect. As a result, she thought very highly of him.
And if she knew how I spoke to him at the funeral, she would be severely disappointed in me. Embarrassment burned her cheeks as she remembered her words. I told him he could not take Jeremiah away. I told him it was all his fault. He must have thought me mad.
She knew she should apologize, and not just for the lunacy of trying to postpone the unavoidable. He was not responsible for his brother’s death.
Even if Jeremiah and I had married when we wished, our marriage would not have held back the inevitable. He still would have been a soldier. He still would have been working in that disease-infested hospital. He still would have taken ill.
Trudy was waiting patiently at the bannister. Her words echoed through Elizabeth’s mind.
He is grieving as deeply as you...perhaps even more so. He regrets what he has done.
She still didn’t like the idea of his company, but she did need to apologize for her behavior at the funeral. And if spending the evening discussing his new job or whatever else he is now involved in will lift Mother’s spirit, I should do my best to comply.
“For Mother’s sake, then,” Elizabeth said.
Trudy offered her a gentle smile. “I’ll help you dress, if you like. I’ll roll your hair for you.”
Elizabeth appreciated the offer. Tonight’s supper made it impossible for her to go about in her gown and morning robe or even a cotton wrapper, but the thought of putting on that black taffeta dress again made her tremble. She had not worn it since the funeral.
In tune to her thoughts, Trudy moved toward her. “It’s only David, Beth. He won’t be expecting witty conversation.”
Nor will he offer it, she thought, for he had always been a quiet man, seemingly content to observe life rather than participate in it. So unlike his brother. “He probably won’t stay long, will he?”
“No. Probably not.”
* * *
By the time the supper hour approached Elizabeth was properly dressed, and Trudy had managed to roll her mangled mass of unruly red curls into a low conservative bun.
“Shall we now go downstairs?” her sister asked.
Hiding a sigh, Elizabeth complied and followed Trudy to the dining room. Their mother had set the table with their finest dishes, minus the silver. The wall sconces were glowing. A vase of freshly cut daffodils was on the table. Trudy fingered one of the bright yellow petals and smiled once more.
“I picked them earlier this evening,” she said. “They just opened.”
“That was kind of you,” Elizabeth said.
Her sister was well aware that daffodils were her favorite flower. She appreciated the gesture, but all she could think of was the last time there had been food and greenery in this room.
We covered the table with pine boughs. People hovered about speaking in whispered tones. David kept staring at me, looking as though there was something he desperately wished to say but could not bring himself to do so.
The kitchen door creaked, and her mother stepped into the room. Elizabeth noted her face looked a little brighter than it had the past few weeks.
“The table looks lovely, Mother,” Elizabeth said.
Jane Martin set the soup tureen on the table, then kissed her cheek. “I am pleased that you approve.”
The doorbell rang, and Elizabeth’s stomach immediately knotted. She knew exactly who was now standing upon her front porch. Since Trudy had run to the kitchen to fetch the bread, Elizabeth’s mother urged her to the door.
“That’s him, Beth. Please, welcome him while I see to the last of the food.”
Her knees felt weak. She had no idea what she was going to say when she opened the door, but forcing her feet forward, Elizabeth went to greet him.
Chapter Three
Elizabeth slowly opened the door. Even with the civilian clothing and chin whiskers, his resemblance to his brother stole her breath. The same nose, the same forehead, the same smile.
David appeared to be just as taken aback by the sight of her.
Yes, she thought. I look dreadful.
Being too much of a gentleman to actually say such a thing, he quickly removed his hat. “Hello, Elizabeth.”
“David...”
He hesitated, as though he wondered if he should greet her with a kiss of the hand or a brotherly peck on the cheek. He did neither. He just stood there, the awkwardness between them very apparent.
Finally, she had the presence of mind to step back and invite him inside. As he crossed the threshold, she offered to take his ha
t.
“Thank you,” was all he said.
Elizabeth laid it on the table and tried desperately to think of something to say to him. It was no use. All her thoughts revolved around Jeremiah. Just when Elizabeth felt tears gathering in her eyes, her mother stepped into the foyer. She cheerfully embraced David.
“How good it is to see you again. Trudy tells me you have taken a job with a newspaper here in Baltimore.”
His face brightened. “Yes,” he said. “The Free American.”
“Oh? I’m not familiar with that one. Is that one of the penny presses?”
He chuckled slightly at her mother’s question. “We aim to be a penny press, but I suppose as of now we’re more a halfpenny.”
“Well, with you there, no doubt it will grow to be as big as...as...” Her mother was searching. “What was it you and Jeremiah were always reading?”
“Harper’s Weekly.”
“Yes. That was it.”
Elizabeth winced at the mention of Jeremiah’s favorite paper. David even pronounced it the same. Hahpuh’s Weekly, as if there were no r’s in a Massachusetts man’s alphabet. “Congratulations,” she managed, forcing herself to enter the conversation. “I supposed, though, you would return to your position in Boston. You mentioned that quite often when we worked together.”
The smile he had given her mother faded. A look of uneasiness took its place. “My job at the Journal was only as an assistant,” he said. “I didn’t get to do much writing. Here I will.”
“I see.” She tried to think of something else to say but came up empty.
After another long pause, her mother directed them toward the dining room. “Well, won’t you join us, David? Everything is on the table.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
They moved to do so. Trudy also welcomed him with a hug, while Elizabeth stood silently by. As soon as her mother offered David the seat at the head of the table, however, it was all she could do to keep from crying out. No! That’s Jeremiah’s seat!
He had claimed that position on the very last evening they had dined together. Elizabeth could remember every detail. He had been the one to ask the blessing. It was his fingers that brushed hers when the serving dishes had been passed. Now David said Grace and offered her bread and butter. The pain cut so deep it was all she could do to remain at the table.
“Tell us about your reporting,” Trudy insisted. “Have you been given any interesting assignments?”
He told them about an article on the former provost marshal, but Elizabeth was only half listening. What route the conversation then took she could not say, but all of a sudden she heard David ask, “Have you heard from George?”
Elizabeth looked up just in time to see her mother and sister exchange hesitant glances. Evidently certain that David’s question was one of brotherly concern and not a reporter’s inquisition, her mother then answered.
“I’ve not heard from my son since the summer.”
“Not since Gettysburg,” Trudy added.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
Elizabeth’s eyes returned to her plate, her throat even tighter than it was before. Her brother’s letters had been few and far between since he’d joined the Confederate army, but he had always managed to send word. The more time that passed, however, the more fearful she became. Over six months had gone by, and she had no idea where he was currently or what battles he may have been involved in. Julia’s brother Edward was now a prisoner of war. Sally’s brother Stephen had been killed. Elizabeth could not escape the thought that something terrible had happened to George, as well.
For if harm could befall a soldier at even a safe posting such as Jeremiah’s, what horrors could the front lines bring?
“I pray for him daily.” David’s voice broke into her thoughts.
She looked up once more to find him staring straight at her. He may have been a member of the opposing army, but Elizabeth clearly noticed his concern and could not doubt the honesty of his words or his intentions. Sympathy was written all over his face.
I suppose that is something we have in common, she thought. He, too, knows what it is like to worry about a brother.
David then looked back at her mother. “Forgive me if this is too forward, but I have noticed there are things around this house which need...tending. I should like to be of assistance to you, until George is able to return.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to think of that offer. It was considerate indeed, but she didn’t wish to have him make a regular appearance. It was simply too hard.
“That is very kind of you, David,” her mother said, “but you are our guest...”
“Please, do not think of me that way. I should like to do my part. As Trudy reminded me earlier today, we are family.”
Her sister nodded, and her mother smiled appreciatively. Clearly they welcomed his presence.
Why is he doing this? Elizabeth wondered. Why would he wish to return to Baltimore, given all that has taken place here? Why would he leave his family and his business opportunities in Boston for a paper as small as the Free American, no matter how much writing he may be able to do?
Trudy’s earlier words passed through her mind. “He is grieving as deeply as you. You could be a comfort to one another...”
Then it made sense to her. David had left Boston because he could not sit at his own family table. He could not view Jeremiah’s empty chair.
A wide array of emotions rushed through her in that moment. David’s voice, his face would be a constant reminder to her of what could never be, but Elizabeth knew her sister was right. He was grieving as deeply as she, and Elizabeth wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone. If oiling a few squeaky hinges and having a bite to eat with us now and again will help him cope with his loss, I can hardly say no. After all, Jeremiah would want his brother to be looked after.
As if reading her thoughts, her mother urged her with a hint of a smile. Elizabeth drew in a quick breath, then looked to David. She tried to sound calm, but her voice was shaky. “I believe we will accept your offer of assistance, only if you will accept an open invitation to dine with us whenever your schedule permits.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth. You have no idea how much I appreciate that.” His face had visibly brightened, and for a moment he looked almost happy.
* * *
The hour was not late, but David knew he should go. He could tell the evening had been difficult for Elizabeth, and he did not wish to prolong her pain. She had done her best to manage polite conversation, but it had clearly been a struggle. For him it had been, as well. The moment she’d opened the front door, a rock had lodged in his throat that he could not swallow.
The sight of those hollow cheeks and vacant eyes cut him deeply. Her grief had been apparent at the funeral, but the weeks since had levied an even harsher effect. Her skin was as pale as New England snow, and those green eyes of hers held no promise of spring. As they walked to the foyer so he could take his leave, he searched desperately for something encouraging to say. All he could come up with was a promise to return tomorrow or the following day to oil the hinges on the kitchen door.
She nodded quietly, and thanked him.
“I noticed there is a sizeable oak limb on the parlor roof,” he then said.
“Yes. It came down a few weeks ago during an ice storm.”
“I’ll see to that, as well. Some of the roof tiles may have been damaged. If they have, they’ll need to be repaired before the next rainstorm.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
The tension between them was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. As uncomfortable as he was, though, he believed he was doing his duty. His father, although he knew not David’s true feelings for Elizabeth, had encouraged him, as well.
“Looking after those ladies is t
he Christian thing to do,” he had said. “There is no guarantee that young Mr. Martin will ever return from battle.”
And if he does, David thought, in what condition will he return?
He’d served in the hospital long enough to know how many veterans, rebel and Union alike, would return in wretched condition. Scores would be legless, armless, others half-witted or unable to comprehend at all.
They return as helpless as they were in infancy. They can no longer care for their families. Their families must care for them.
He wondered if Elizabeth thought of such things. Did she fear that fate for her brother? Had she ever confessed such fears to Jeremiah? Had he been able to comfort her?
The thought of his brother holding her tight, kissing away her tears, made David’s chest burn, but he forced the image away.
I have no right to think of such things. I came to protect her, to lend a hand in practical matters, as any decent male relative should.
When they reached the front door, Elizabeth asked about his sister. “Has Clara recovered? Is the baby strong?”
Trudy had asked the exact same question at dinner. Elizabeth must not have been listening. “Yes,” he replied once more. “Both mother and son are doing well.”
She tried her best to smile. It wasn’t a very convincing one. “I am pleased to hear that. I imagine that is a great comfort to your family. What did they name him?”
David swallowed hard. “Jeremiah.”
Immediately her eyes clouded, and it was only then that she asked about the burial. David delicately told her the details. Her chin quivered when she learned the band had played his favorite hymn.
“‘What a Friend We Have in Jesus,’” she whispered.
“Yes.”
He was hesitant to give her what he’d been carrying in his vest pocket, uncertain how she would respond, but taking a chance, he withdrew the handkerchief. A ragged gasp escaped her throat when he unfolded it and revealed the lock of his brother’s hair.
He stumbled through his words. “I thought you would like to have it...perhaps for...a...piece of jewelry...”
Second Chance Love Page 4