She didn’t want him to take it back. That was one thing of which she was certain. Her hands were shaking. Her heart was pounding. If only she could make him understand. She tried. “David, I...you...Jeremiah—”
He stopped her cold. “Elizabeth, I’m very sorry. I never meant to hurt you or my brother. I know you loved him.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “You love him still.”
No! No! You don’t understand! Inside, she was screaming. It isn’t that I don’t love you. I cannot bear the thought of something happening to you!
But before Elizabeth could get the words out, David turned on his heel and walked away.
* * *
It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was the best he could do for the moment, under the circumstances. She did not love him. He was a fool to think she ever would. The time they had spent together, the work they had shared was just that—business. He had succeeded in helping her as an artist, and for that she was grateful, but she was not his girl. She never would be. Her heart would forever belong to his brother.
David spent the rest of the day avoiding her. He helped Peter and his father fix the fence and board up the broken windows. When the house was secure once more, he pulled his editor aside.
“I need to go back to Boston,” he said.
Peter blinked. “Are you worried about trouble with your own family?”
“No. It’s not that...” What could he say? He knew he needed to explain, but he didn’t want to go spilling details. Elizabeth would still be working at the paper, or so he hoped.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to spell it out. The seasoned newspaperman recognized the story. “Miss Martin,” Peter said with a knowing look.
“Yes. You will keep her on staff, won’t you?”
“Of course. She’s invaluable.”
Indeed she is. “I’m ever so grateful for the opportunity you gave her, as well as for the one you gave me.”
Peter shifted his weight from his weak leg and eyed David shrewdly. “There’s no chance I can convince you to stay?”
David shook his head. “I think it’s better for everyone if I don’t.”
His editor nodded slowly. “I’ll need you to finish out the week. Can you do that?”
It would be difficult, but he owed the man that much. “Yes.”
“Good. I appreciate that. I’ll be happy to give you a reference.”
David thanked him for that, but at this point finding a new position was the farthest thing from his mind.
When morning came, they escorted the Martin family back to the city. After making certain their home was secure, David and Peter left for the newspaper.
Elizabeth stayed behind, clearly relieved that her house was still standing, and apparently further relieved that for the time being, her editor had granted her permission to complete her sketches from home. David could not blame her for making the request. In a way, he was glad she had. Sitting across from her in the newsroom would be just as unbearable for him as it would be for her.
For the next several days he covered the damage done by the skirmishes, interviewed witnesses who’d encountered the rebel army and did his best not to think of her. His effort on that account was fruitless. Elizabeth was constantly in his thoughts.
On the day before he was scheduled to depart for Boston, Peter called him into his office.
“I’ve one last assignment for you,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“I want you to head over to the provost marshal’s department. I have it on good authority they’re holding a couple of Confederate prisoners. They may turn out to be only deserters, but they could be part of that crowd who tore up the countryside. See what you can find out.”
David gathered his journal and hat, then started out. Blue-clad sentries stood guard at the entrance to the provost marshal’s headquarters. David showed his press card to one of the grim-faced men and asked to see the officer in charge. He was promptly escorted to a waiting area on the second floor. A lieutenant colonel soon met him.
“I understand you are holding a couple of Confederate prisoners,” David said. “May I have a look at them?”
“Not until I’m through with them,” the lieutenant colonel said. “Then you can question them all you like.”
David blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected to be granted that much access. “You’ll let me interview them?”
“As long as you make it clear in your article that they’ll be heading to prison forthwith. Let the rebel sympathizers of this city know what comes of their treasonous schemes.”
At that moment a door to the right opened. Encouraged by a bayonet-wielding guard, a pair of ragtag prisoners crossed in front of him, then disappeared into the room opposite. David did his best not to falter when he saw them, but he was certain he recognized one of the Confederates.
It was Elizabeth’s own brother.
Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth struggled to lay down the scenes of the skirmish in her sketch pad but couldn’t stay focused on her task. David was leaving town in just a few days. He’d told her so when he escorted her home. The look on his face haunted her. He had acted as a gentleman as always, but Elizabeth knew she had hurt him. She hated the fact that she had. She wanted to confess everything. She had loved Jeremiah, but she loved him more. Elizabeth, however, dared not say such words.
Things will settle in time. Once he returns to Boston and becomes absorbed in another newspaper, he will forget all about me.
But Elizabeth knew full well she would never be able to forget about him. She would never again be able to pick up a drawing pencil or a stick of charcoal without being reminded of what they had shared.
And of what I let slip away...
Reason told her she was doing the right thing. She was protecting herself from a painful future, yet already her heart was aching at the thought of his departure.
But it must be this way, she argued. For if he were to stay, it would only hurt that much more when something happens...
And she had convinced herself something would inevitably go wrong. The recent skirmish was her proof. War still raged, and disease and destruction were still part of this world. They always would be.
Yes, her heart whispered, but you have survived, and look at what you’ve learned, what you’ve experienced in the process...
She forced herself to focus on her work. Mr. Keedy is due to arrive shortly. I must finish this assignment.
Somehow she managed to complete her task with only moments to spare.
“Thank you for coming to claim the sketches,” she told the young man.
“It was my pleasure, Miss Martin. Mr. Wainwright said you were busy tending to things here at home, what with the rebel scare and all.”
Rebel scare? David had apparently told the rest of the staff she was needed at home, not that she was hiding here until he left town. Bless him, Elizabeth thought.
He was protective of her until the last. How much Elizabeth appreciated that, how much she wished she could tell him.
But I can’t... I can’t give in...
Mr. Keedy had no sooner walked away when again a knock sounded. Thinking he had forgotten some manner of business, Elizabeth quickly opened the door.
To her surprise, there stood David. Her heart immediately lodged in her throat.
“I know you probably don’t wish to see me,” he said, removing his hat, “but I’ve come across some news you must know.”
“N-news?” she stammered.
“Yes. Your brother is here in Baltimore.”
“My brother?”
Trudy rounded the corner. Mother was not far behind. “You’ve seen George?” they both said. “Where? When?”
“He’s currently being held at the provost mars
hal’s department. He’s been captured.”
Elizabeth’s head was spinning. He’s alive? He’s been captured? He’s here in Baltimore? Can this really be true?
“You’ve seen George personally?” her mother asked. “Is he wounded?”
“I have and no. He’s a little worse for the wear, much thinner than that tintype you have of him on the mantel, but he’s uninjured. And I am positive I recognized him. It’s George.”
“Did you speak with him?” Trudy asked.
“I tried. But neither he nor his fellow soldier would offer a word. To my knowledge, he hasn’t spoken to anyone since his capture.”
“Why?” Trudy asked.
Elizabeth was still struggling to find her voice, but she was certain she knew the answer. She looked to David. “He’s trying to protect us, isn’t he?”
The depth of emotion in his eyes cut her to the core. “I believe so,” he said. “The lieutenant colonel in charge seems to think both men were either scouts for the would-be assault on Baltimore or they came here trying to warn their families of the impending danger.”
“Then we must let him know we are well,” Mother said. “We mustn’t let him worry.”
Elizabeth understood her mother’s eagerness, but she knew that George would not be allowed any visitors, and even if he were, it would be very dangerous for them to claim knowing him. “What will they do with him, now?” she asked David.
“They are moving him to Fort McHenry this afternoon. After that he’ll be transferred to the prison camp at Point Lookout.”
Prison. Elizabeth’s heart squeezed. Where he’ll be held for the remainder of the war.
Her sister realized that, as well. “Then there is no telling when we will see him! To think he is this close and we can’t go to him.” Tears filled her eyes. Mother was dotting her own with her handkerchief.
Elizabeth couldn’t stand to see them in pain, especially when she might be able to ease it, even if only a little. She was cautious, however, in making her request. “David, perhaps I shouldn’t ask you this, but...will you take me to see him?”
He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Elizabeth, the sister of a Confederate soldier can’t just waltz into the provost marshal’s office.”
“Indeed, but a sketch artist could. You could say we’ve come because of your article. I know my brother will recognize me.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of! If those soldiers realize who you are, they will hound you and your family until they get whatever information they are seeking, maybe even worse. They could accuse you of being a spy—”
“But I’m a member of the press, and I’d be with you, a former federal soldier.”
When David raked his fingers through his wavy hair, she was certain he was going to tell her no. He had every right. If the soldiers grew suspicious of her, he would be in danger, too, for bringing her. There was no reason for him to put himself at risk for her after she had refused him. Guilt consumed her.
I shouldn’t have asked him. It was selfish of me to even think of asking such a favor of him.
David sighed. “We may be able to catch a glimpse of him before they move him to Fort McHenry.”
Elizabeth blinked. “You’ll take me?”
Before she could thank him, he placed his hands on her arms and looked her square in the eye. Elizabeth tingled from his touch, from the fierce look of protectiveness on his face.
“I want to make certain you understand the severity of this situation,” he said. “You must stay beside me at all times, and if I sense even the slightest threat, we are leaving immediately.”
“I understand. I trust your judgment.”
He looked at her as if he were about to say something else, but Trudy had already brought her sketchbook.
“Before you go,” her mother said, “let’s pray.”
They did, and then David and Elizabeth turned for the door.
* * *
“So you’re back?” the lieutenant colonel said. “You want to try again? Think you’ll get more out of them than I did?”
David was careful in his response. “No, sir, but without much to go on, I could use a sketch.” He didn’t say exactly what he was going to use the sketch for, though. This was one likeness that would never make it into the newspaper.
The lieutenant colonel nodded, then looked to Elizabeth. “You the artist?”
“Yes, sir.” She handed him her press card.
David held his breath as the lieutenant colonel gave her the once-over.
“Don’t get too many ladies in here,” he said, then evidently deciding she was no threat, he handed back the card and called for a guard.
A pockmarked private escorted them to the holding room David had previously visited. Elizabeth tensed the moment she saw her brother. David hoped that would be the extent of her emotion on display. A second guard stood watch only a few feet from them.
George was at the back of the cell, seated on the floor, knees folded to his chest. He hadn’t even bothered to look up when they had entered. His comrade did, though, and immediately stood, eyeing Elizabeth with intrigue.
“She’s here to take down your likeness,” David explained.
George then lifted his head. Recognition and shock sparked in his eyes. The guard noticed and glanced at Elizabeth. David quickly covered. “She gets such looks all the time,” he said to the man in what he hoped was a casual tone. “Evidently few fellows have met a lady artist.”
“I know I haven’t,” the guard said.
Under his watchful glare, George moved forward. Elizabeth hurried to busy herself with her sketchbook, capturing his image. David wondered just how much she’d actually be able to put down. The grip on her pencil was as tight as the set of her jaw.
“My sister likes to draw.”
Elizabeth froze at the sound of her brother’s voice. The guard was completely taken aback, as well. “You’ve more power here than the lieutenant colonel, miss. Those are the first words he’s uttered.”
Elizabeth ignored him. Her eyes focused solely on George. “Does she?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’m right proud of her. Always have been. I miss her very much.”
Her chin twitched. David prayed and watched as she then adjusted her grip on her pencil and kept sketching. “I’m certain your sister misses you, as well,” she said.
“I pray for her,” George said. “I pray for all of my family.”
Before her emotion could get the best of her, Elizabeth wisely shifted her attention to his comrade. “What about you? she asked. “Do you have any family?”
The man grinned. Vain as a peacock at Elizabeth’s attention, he brushed back his hair and posed gallantly against the wall. “None as pretty as you.”
David took offense at the caddish remark, as did Elizabeth’s brother. When George’s fists tightened, David knew it was time to leave. Any moment now, the guard was going to realize who she was. How he hadn’t already noticed the family resemblance was beyond him.
“Have you enough to go on?” David asked. She had her brother’s face down but nothing else.
Elizabeth nodded slowly. Her face was ashen. “Yes. I can complete the rest from memory.”
“Good,” he said. He eyed the nameless soldier with a purposeful look of disdain, as if his impudent remark was the sole reason for their departure. “Then I think we are through here.”
She closed her sketchbook, moved toward the door. David knew it was killing her, but she did not look back. He did, however, just long enough to notice her brother’s eyes were following him. The look in them told David that George appreciated what he had just done.
* * *
Elizabeth had never been more thankful for fresh air in all her life. The room in which George wa
s being held had been stale smelling and stiflingly hot, but she knew her discomfort had more to do with the emotions she couldn’t show than the actual physical conditions.
She hadn’t seen her brother since the war began, hadn’t even heard from him in almost a year, and then there he’d stood, inches from her, only iron bars between them. Where had he been all this time? Why hadn’t he written? Why was he really here in Baltimore?
She didn’t know, and she wouldn’t until this war ended and he returned home. The thought of having to wait until then was such agony that it was all she could do to keep back her tears. But she knew that she could not let her distress show. That guard could have arrested her and David on the spot.
So she’d prayed. She’d prayed for strength. She’d prayed for safety for David, for George and for herself. She’d prayed for the courage to walk out of that room and for the faith to believe that her brother would be all right.
And she had been granted those requests.
When they were far enough away from the provost marshal’s sentries, David asked, “Are you all right?”
Oddly enough, she was. Despite what she had just witnessed and all that had recently happened between them, Elizabeth felt an unmistakable peace.
“I know it may sound strange, given the fact that my brother is on his way to a prison camp, but I believe God has answered my prayers.”
David glanced at her curiously. “How so?”
“I now know what has become of George. He isn’t dead. He isn’t lying wounded somewhere. And as dreadful as prison is, at least he’s out of the fighting.”
David offered her a sympathetic smile. “Well said, Elizabeth. I believe that’s the way to look at it. God has not forgotten him.”
“I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee...” Faith rose like a tiny bubble inside her, for she realized God had been with her brother all along. He had been with her, as well. Her prayers hadn’t always been answered as she had hoped, but God had comforted her, provided for her and loved her every step of the way.
He had given her the opportunity to see her brother and the ability to sketch his face so her mother and sister could catch a glimpse of him, also. He had given her the chance to answer her brother’s prayer—to see her safe and well. He had given her an avenue by which she may earn income doing what she loved. He had given her the will to go on living when she had wanted to die.
Second Chance Love Page 23