Rainbow Hammock

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  “Major Denegal,” she managed, disguising her voice with a thick, Savannah drawl, then drawing away as quickly as possible.

  She tried not to look directly into his eyes as he said, “Charmed, Miss Grafton.”

  In the dining room she found herself seated next to Steele, who clearly did not recognize her. Still, she was tortured by his nearness and his never-ending questions.

  No! she thought. This isn’t right. I’m supposed to be doing the asking and he’s supposed to supply the needed information.

  “Well,” Antonia finally broke in, “have you two gotten acquainted? Major Denegal, I understand you’ve been in Key West. You must detest this cold and snow.”

  “Not at all, Miss Ford. You see, I was raised in upstate New York. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen snow at Christmas. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “I dare say, old Burnside doesn’t share your enthusiasm at the weather!” Elkins said. “Did you hear today that he’s had Major Ira Spaulding of the Fiftieth New York Engineers arrested along with several of his officers for their delay in transporting those bridges?”

  The men nodded, but Lilah didn’t understand, and said so. “Transporting bridges? Whatever for?”

  Antonia smiled at Lilah. She would do all right.

  Elkins responded, eager to enlighten. “Why, haven’t you heard, Miss Grafton? General Burnside is preparing to cross the Rappahannock River and attack Lee’s forces at Fredericksburg. These bridges are portable, built on pontoons. Poor Spaulding and his men muffed it. Now the battle’s been delayed, giving Lee the advantage.”

  “Oh,” Lilah replied, looking puzzled.

  Elkins, warming to his subject, added in a whisper, “But the word is out. I saw the War Department message this afternoon. Burnside attacks tomorrow, bridges or no! If all else fails, he’s hoping to find a patch of the river frozen over.”

  “Oh, dear, that sounds as if they’ll be taking a dreadful chance. All those men!” Antonia turned to Willard. “How many did you say General Burnside had, Joe?”

  “One hundred and six thousand, Antonia,” he supplied proudly.

  “But, surely,” she said, “the weight of that many will break through the ice. They’ll all be drowned in that freezing water!”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that, Miss Ford,” Steele added grimly. “I, too, saw a report today in my office. Six of our men froze to death last night, sleeping. One way or the other, we’re lost if we don’t attack.”

  The women shuddered at this information, but they had what they needed.

  After supper the group went to the music room and gathered around Patti at the piano, singing Christmas carols. Lilah’s heart ached to be with her children at this season, but there was no help for it. She glanced sidelong at Steele, who sang out “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” in a wonderful baritone voice. She’d never heard him sing before.

  She measured him thoughtfully. The beard made him look older, and she noticed that he had strands of silver at his temples. Suddenly, she remembered something he’d said the night in Savannah when her little Ruth was born. His wife had been expecting a child too. Was he a father, then? She longed to ask him, but he hadn’t mentioned his wife. She couldn’t bring up the subject without casting suspicion on herself.

  “Oh, look!” Antonia cried, pointing to the window. “It’s snowing again. Let’s put on our wraps and go out on the porch. I love it when it first falls!”

  The merry group followed along to the porch. Joe Willard and Antonia worked their way to the far end, and Ulah noticed that Antonia didn’t shrug off the arm around her shoulders.

  Realizing Steele was standing very close to her, Lilah asked suddenly, “Are you married, major?”

  “Yes,” he answered, staring out over the snowy street. “My wife and son, J.D., are in Key West.”

  “Children are lovely,” Lilah answered, feeling jealousy for his wife.

  “Have we met before, Violet?” he asked, throwing her for a moment. There’s something about her eyes, he thought.

  “Why, no. I’m sure I would remember, major.”

  He shook his head. “If your hair were a different color, you’d look very much like an old love of mine.”

  “An old love, major?” She tried to laugh away her uneasy feelings. “Do you mean by that that her hair was gray?”

  “No, silver. As silver as the new snow by starlight.” He paused, then looked at her, and added, almost to himself, “Or the moon on the beach at Rainbow Hammock.”

  “But you don’t love her anymore?” She had to ask.

  “There are some women a man can never stop loving. She’s probably married by now. But she’ll always be someone special to me.” He bent over her, searching her eyes.

  Lilah realized suddenly that the others had returned to the house. She was alone with Steele in a snow-frosted fantasyland, and he had just said he still loved her. The blood raced to her brain, bringing dizziness in its wake. She wanted to confess her identity, her love for him, but she dared not.

  He slipped his arms around her, and brought his lips close to hers. The pressure on her mouth was gentle, but firm. She wanted to pull away, to run to the security of numbers inside, but she couldn’t. She loved him, too, in spite of everything. At that moment she knew she always would.

  He drew away at length, and she said, “We’d better go in now.”

  “Yes,” he answered huskily, his eyes still locked to hers.

  She’d been cold before. Now heat blazed through her. Her knees felt weak. She could almost see herself staggering as they went back into the house.

  “Good night, Violet,” Steele said, offering her one of his boyish smiles. “Will you be stopping at the Fords’ long?”

  “A few weeks.”

  “Then I’ll see you again.”

  After the men left Antonia turned to Lilah and asked, “Is anything wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I have, in a way,” Lilah answered cryptically. “Hadn’t we better change now, Antonia? The storm’s getting worse.”

  “Right you are! There’s not a minute to lose. We have to get this information to General Lee’s army!”

  The snowstorm worked as much for them as against them that night. Dressed in long riding skirts, heavy boots, and woolen capes, Antonia and Lilah forged through the freezing darkness on horseback, without opposition. Any Federal pickets who might have been in the area had taken cover for the night.

  “We can’t make it all the way to Fredericksburg, Antonia,” Lilah called against the wind.

  “I don’t intend to try. All we have to do is locate a Confederate outpost. They’ll relay our message, rider to rider, all the way down.”

  As if her words had summoned up the soldier, a Confederate private rode out of the woods toward them, his rifle raised. “Halt! Who goes there?”

  “Jeb Stuart’s special major,” Antonia replied.

  Recognizing her signal, the soldier lowered his gun and came to where Antonia and Lilah sat their horses.

  “Nasty night for you ladies to be out,” he said through chattering teeth. “Wish I could offer you a warm tent and a cup of coffee, major, but I’m riding picket duty tonight.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Antonia said, all business now. “There’s no time anyway. We have to get a message through to General Lee’s army before sunrise. Burnside plans to attack at first light. If his pontoon bridges can’t be set in place in time, he will send his men over on foot, fording the Rappahannock where ice has formed.”

  “Lord God!” the man hissed with frozen breath. “Thank you, major! I’m on my way!”

  “Godspeed!” Antonia called after him.

  “Will they have enough time?” Lilah asked.

  “Pray they do, Violet! Pray they do!”

  The two women pushed their horses through the dense curtain of winter—on and on into the night. Lilah’s fingers felt frozen to her reins,
even through the heavy gloves she wore. Her whole body ached with cold and strain, but she determined to keep up with Antonia Ford.

  Hours later they reached the stable behind the Ford home. The smoky light that would have been dawn was all but obliterated by the swirling snow.

  Antonia only nodded at the stable hand as she dismounted. “Come on!” she said to Lilah.

  They stamped off snow at the back steps, then entered the kitchen where a great fire blazed and the aroma of frying bacon, hot coffee, and baking bread filled the steamy air.

  Mrs. Ford glanced up when they entered. Her aristocratic face lost its worried expression and she smiled. “Did you girls have a nice ride?” she asked, as if they’d been out for an early morning canter through the snowbound woods.

  Antonia kissed her cheek. “It was fine, Mother!”

  The two women changed out of their cold, soggy clothes, consumed an enormous breakfast, then went to their rooms to sleep. Lilah lay in her bed, watching the sky lighten outside. A tense excitement gripped her. So this was what it was like—frightening, glorious!

  She’d never been so alive in her life. The feeling consumed her. It was almost as delicious as that special moment in love-making. She understood Antonia’s passion for the game. She shared it!

  News of the Confederate victory at Fredericksburg reached Washington a week later.

  Antonia and Lilah pored over the newspaper reports: “12,653 Federals dead or wounded. Of the 72,500 Confederates embattled, only 5,309 casualties. Richmond, forty-five miles south, safe! Robert E. Lee hailed a hero! Burnside condemned as a blunderer. Lee remarked, after barely escaping death when one of his cannons exploded fifty feet away from him, it is well that war is so terrible—we should grow too fond of it.”’

  “Look at these two items, Antonia,” Lilah said, scanning the page. “A ten-year-old drummer boy was in one of the first boats to cross the Rappahannock. I wonder if he survived? It doesn’t say. And a woman named Emma Edmonds, a Canadian, nursed the wounded Union troops. Has it come to this? Women and children at war?”

  “We did our part, Violet,” Antonia answered softly. “Had our message not been delivered, the Confederates might well have lost this bloody battle. In that event, General Burnside would be on his way to Richmond.”

  “I suppose you’re right. The two of us can’t stop all the killing. We can only act out our parts and hope that the war ends soon.”

  They continued their work. More dinner parties, more rides through the night, more encounters with Steele, and many near disasters. The winter wore on.

  January 1, 1863, brought the beginning of a new era with Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation. Lilah sat brooding over the news as she sipped her morning coffee.

  “You look like a thundercloud, Violet,” Antonia remarked. “What is it?”

  Lilah waved her hand in the air as if trying to dispell her gloom. “I was only thinking about my home—my people. When I get back, I suppose they’ll all be gone—Maum Tassie, Dora, Blue, Tee-Bo, Zalou, even old Uncle Custer. The world’s changing, isn’t it, Antonia?”

  “The world’s always changing, Violet. The trick is to change with it.”

  “I suppose so,” Lilah sighed.

  “Chin up, Violet! We may see more action than we can handle soon. I have it on good authority that Mosby is headed our way. He and his rangers snap at the heels of the enemy like yapping dogs, creating more havoc with their hit-and-run tactics than a full army could. I’ve been advised he wants a meeting with me.”

  “When?”

  “I’ll know when he sends for me!”

  A knock at the door interrupted them. They ran upstairs to dress while a servant answered it. When they heard Steele Denegal’s voice, the two women peered down into the hallway, and heard him say, “I’ve come to see Miss Grafton.”

  Lilah, dressed in a dove gray wool, slipped her wig in place, then hurried downstairs. A strange dread filled her. Steele had never called alone or at such an early hour.

  “Good morning,” he said with a smile, when she entered the parlor.

  “Morning, indeed,” Lilah answered. “What brings you out so early, Major Denegal?”

  “I’ve come to take you for a walk,” he demanded more than asked.

  Lilah’s uneasiness increased. “Will you have coffee?”

  “No, Violet. Get your cape and let’s go,” he commanded.

  They strolled past the courthouse to a wooded area at the edge of town. Steele led her just far enough into the trees so that they would be sheltered from the eyes of curious passersby. Without a word, he closed his arms around her and kissed her deeply, then released her abruptly. He stared at her with searching eyes.

  “What is it, Steele?” she asked in a quivering voice.

  “You tell me, Violet Grafton! What kind of game are you playing?”

  “Steele, I… I don’t understand,” she stammered.

  In answer, he untied the green ribbons fastening her bonnet, then lifted the black wig off her head.

  “I suspected as much from the first night we met at the Ford house. But it didn’t make any sense for you to be here. It wasn’t until two nights ago that I was sure. You slipped… started to mention Kingdom’s name, then caught yourself. What the hell’s going on, Lilah?”

  “Oh, Steele,” she cried, “you wouldn’t understand. You’re not a woman!”

  ‘Try me!” he ordered brusquely.

  “I had to get away from Rainbow Hammock, the loneliness, the responsibilities, if only for a time.”

  “And the wig? Why the disguise, Queen Delilah?”

  “I thought it might help…” she began.

  “Oh, I see. Oscar Ryan filled in the sordid details of Brandon’s marriage. You’ve come up here looking for Brandon, haven’t you? He seems to prefer dark-haired women—Cousin Saralyn, his Cuban wife. So you thought you might woo him into that annulment he promised you if you looked more like his other women.” He made an angry, disgusted sound in his throat.

  Lilah nodded, thankful that Steele had come up with an explanation that satisfied him. She never would have thought of that. But then Steele knew nothing of her real marriage to Brandon or his death.

  He closed his arms around her, and whispered, “Lilah darling, don’t you realize you’re perfect the way you are? You don’t need wigs or fancy gowns to make me love you.”

  She vacillated between wanting to admit her love for him and accept what he offered, and feeling honor-bound to reject him because of his wife and child.

  He took her cheeks between his hands and brought his lips down to hers. His kiss was tender, loving, sweet.

  “You’ll freeze out here. Let’s go to the tavern and have a warm tankard of cider, Lilah.”

  “Only if you allow me to wear my wig and promise to call me Violet from now on,” she answered.

  He laughed and the sound vibrated a clump of snow off a branch above them. It showered down on their heads. “Very well, Violet. That’s little enough to concede in order to have you to myself for a time.”

  They took a sheltered back booth at the inn. After ordering Steele reached across the table and drew Lilah’s gloves off, warming her cold fingers between his hands.

  “The last time we were alone together, we made beautiful love. Do you remember?” he whispered.

  She felt her cheeks bum and looked down at the table. “I could hardly forget that afternoon on Rainbow Hammock.”

  “I have a room upstairs,” he said hopefully.

  When Lilah didn’t answer, he moved around the table to sit beside her, his large frame hiding her from the two other customers in the tavern.

  “Lilah…”

  “Violet!” she corrected.

  “Darling, it can be that way again between us,” he pleaded.

  “No, Steele,” she said with little conviction, her body aching for him.

  He slipped his hand inside her cloak and found her brea
st, caressing gently until she thought his touch would singe the fabric. He pressed his leg tightly against hers, and brought her fingertips to his lips.

  “I want you,” he whispered.

  She said nothing, but gasped softly when he squeezed her breast harder, sending thrills through her.

  “Oh, Steele, this isn’t right,” she sighed.

  He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, persuading.

  “Let’s go upstairs, darling,” he urged, passion naked in his voice.

  A moment more and she knew she would give in to her own need—right or wrong. She tried to push all thoughts of him out of her mind. But how could she?

  “Oh, Miss Violet, there you is!” a woman’s voice called. “Miss Antonia told me to come find you and bring you right home. She say it important!”

  “Mandy!” Lilah exclaimed, looking up at the Fords’ maid. “Of course, I’ll be right there.”

  She felt at once relieved and cheated. Steele stood up and she smiled at him a bit apologetically.

  He touched her cheek. “There’ll be another time for us, Violet.”

  She nodded and hurried out with Mandy.

  Back at the house, Lilah found Antonia pacing nervously. She looked up, her pretty face alive with excitement. “He’s come, Violet! Mosby is here!”

  Early in February Steele Denegal arrived at his office one morning to find Colonel Good, lately attached to Fort Taylor in Key West, stamping impatiently about.

  “Good!” Steele said, extending his hand to his friend. “When did you get here?”

  “A few weeks ago,” the agitated colonel answered.

  “Did you see Caroline before you left?”

  Good leveled a meaningful gaze at Steele. “Often! Your wife’s been giving us a hard time down there. That’s partly what I’m here about.”

  Steele frowned. “She said she would if I left. But I thought it was just one of her idle threats made in the heat of anger.”

  “Look at this!” Good extended an official order to Steele. He read it:

  Headquarters DEPARTMENT of THE SOUTH,

  Hilton Head, Port Royal, S.C.,