“With your plans?”
“With the churches. Well, some of them anyway. They work hard at being polished and slick and entertaining, but that’s not what Jesus had in mind. Why do we have to make Him neat and tidy? He was in the streets. He still is, doing miracles and delivering addicts from the gutter. He was a tough dude, the ultimate game changer, strong in body and mind to the end, when He showed the full extent of His strength by giving it all up for our sake.”
He paused, flashing me a sheepish grin “Sorry. I didn’t mean to preach a sermon here. I just get a little worked up sometimes.”
“I think it’s awesome,” I replied softly, though by then he’d risen to go and check on Hutch, so I wasn’t even sure if he heard me.
At my urging, Nate finished his story once he returned, telling me how three years ago he figured out where God had been leading him all along. When he was offered a part-time job as chaplain of Powhatan Downs, he negotiated his position here so that it would allow him the flexibility to do both. “The folks who own this place are really good people and strong Christians. If not for them, and for the chaplain who connected me with them in the first place, there’s no telling where I’d be now.”
Nate’s passion was so clear, and as I’d been listening to him, it was as if I could literally feel myself falling in love. I knew those feelings weren’t reciprocated—if anything, he made a point of never even brushing against me or standing too close or allowing his eyes to linger on mine. But I’d never met anyone like him, and I had felt my heart drawing nearer to his with every passing hour of the night.
“Thanks for sharing all that,” I said into the quiet when he was finished, wishing I could reach out and take his hand.
“Thank you for sticking it out this long,” he replied, flashing me a smile. As badly as I wanted to see some sort of feeling for me reflected there in return, all I could make out was a wall. This man was never going to see me as anything but an employee and an eventual relapser.
We heard a loud burst of gas from the horse, followed by some promising sounds, so we both jumped up and went to look. I never would have expected such a magical, intimate night between two people to conclude with a successful bowel movement, but there you go. Just as the horizon began to glow, Hutch passed the obstruction, and though I wanted to throw my arms around Nate in celebration, I had to be satisfied with the simple high five he offered me.
We stuck around to observe for another hour or so, during which Hutch continued to be happily, actively productive. Prancing around the ring now in a mix of relief and joy, he was starting to look like himself again.
When the sun was fully up, I knew I should go, so I helped fold away the screen tent and then just stood there, wishing desperately that Nate felt about me the way I did about him.
“You should come on Sunday—well, tomorrow now,” Nate said easily as he topped off Hutch’s water bucket. “To church at the racetrack, I mean. It’s a secure area, but all I have to do is put your name on a list, and they’ll let you through. I think you’d like it.”
“All right,” I said, looking forward to it.
The next morning I was there, eager to see the place for myself and especially to observe Nate in such a unique environment. When he’d said he was a chaplain, I’d had trouble picturing it, but once he was up front leading the group in song and prayer, it was easy to see that he was as perfect a fit there, caring for his flock, as he was at the farm, caring for the horses, not to mention the employees.
The place itself was dirty and gritty, the singing in several languages, boisterous children running free up and down the aisle the entire time. But I loved it. Every part of it. His sermon was excellent, about how faith conquers fear, and his words echoed in my mind long after the service was done.
“I see fear a lot where I work,” he’d said. “Kids who meet horses for the first time, who touch their soft coats with shaking hands. The horses sense this fear, and they embody it. They become finicky, they huff and beat their hooves into the ground…”
He paused, looking around as many of the parishioners nodded their heads in agreement.
“But every day, I also see kids conquer their fears. They approach the horses. They climb on. Sure, there’s risk. What if the horse rears and they fall off? What if they get their hand bitten? But here’s the thing: The kids can’t know the horse’s love without first conquering their fear. And how is that done? Through faith and faith alone.”
When I got home, I found Greg and Maddee cuddled on the couch and going through the Talbot photos. As soon as I walked in, my sister waved me over with a smile.
“Hey, remember the pic of Therese with the doctor named Talbot?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. “We figured he was the Talbot she ended up marrying?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, we found another photo of her with a completely different guy, also young and handsome, also a Talbot, only it’s a different Talbot than the one before.” She handed it over, adding, “So what do you think? Which of the two, if either, did she marry?”
I took a look at the picture. Though I’d seen it before, I hadn’t read the names on the back, which listed the people as M. Talbot, T. Jennings, and several unidentified soldiers. The image had obviously been taken near the end of the war, and it featured Therese and a man standing in front of a wagon that was filled with ailing soldiers, three of whom had managed to sit up and pose for the photo.
Maddee was right. This Talbot was every bit as good looking as the other one, if not more so.
“ ‘M. Talbot’, huh?” I asked, handing the photo back to her. “You don’t suppose that’s Michael Talbot, do you? The one who was in France and brought home the illuminated manuscript?”
Maddee’s eyes widened. “Oh! I don’t know. I hadn’t thought of that.” She peered down at the picture for a long moment. “Could be. He is the right age.”
“Are we direct descendants of Michael? Or is he just somewhere out there in our family tree, like a distant cousin or something?”
“I’m not sure,” Maddee replied. “That whole story came from Detective Ortiz, not the family, so details like that weren’t included. I never thought to ask.”
“Guess we have some new questions for Aunt Cissy the next time we see her, then,” I replied.
Looking down at the pile of photos, I thought about Therese Jennings. I knew she had lived at a difficult time, and she’d had to endure much during the war. But if two men had been vying for her heart simultaneously, I realized now, that meant her love life had probably been even more complicated and confusing than mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Therese
Aggie listened as Therese quickly told her what was going on, her mouth open in disbelief. Then Therese handed her the papers. “Badan’s are here too. Dr. Talbot and Ruth will take you on the train with them tomorrow. Let Badan know first thing in the morning when he brings Mother.”
Nodding, Aggie embraced Therese. “It’s more than I dreamed.”
“Well,” Therese said, hugging her friend, “Maine is cold in the winter—absolutely freezing with lots of snow. And there aren’t many free blacks there, so it won’t be an easy road. But if you stay here, Badan could be forced to fight soon, and I don’t want you back at River Pines.” She let go of Aggie and gazed down at her growing middle. “God willing, this baby will be free.”
Aggie’s smile dimmed. “So Mr. Michael was lying to us? It was a trap, like you said?”
Therese hesitated. She had to be honest with her friend. “I’m not entirely sure, Aggie. But even if it wasn’t, you’ll still be a lot safer leaving this way, with Alec and Ruth and your official papers, rather than being smuggled in the back of a wagon—and going through who knows what else in order to make your way north.”
After telling her friend goodbye, Therese went looking for Alec. Surely the doctor hadn’t been acting out of anger or betrayal when he told Mother she could take Warner home. Surely he wouldn’t
endanger Warner’s life out of spite.
She was trying to find him when she ran into Ruth, who said, “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
Ruth gestured toward a more private area in the hallway and led Therese there as she explained in a low voice that she wanted to make sure everything was in order for tomorrow morning’s departure.
“Yes. Mother gave me the papers, and I passed them along to Aggie.”
“Excellent. Then Alec and I will take it from here.” Ruth cleared her throat. “There is one other matter I wanted to ask you about. I plan to return to New York eventually, to my work at the hospital there. I’ve invited Polly to join me. I’d like to extend the invitation to you as well.”
Therese tried to hide her surprise. “Thank you.” She smiled, wryly. “But I’m not cut from the same cloth as you and Polly. I’ll be staying here and caring for my mother and brother.”
“Ah. Well, I understand.”
In return, Therese thanked Ruth for all of her care of the soldiers, including Warner. “You’re a tremendously gifted nurse.”
Ruth waved off the praise. “I’m grateful I could help. As for the… situation with Badan and Aggie… I just want to say that you’ve done a good thing, even if it was at such a high cost. I’m sorry for your sake, though, for how it all turned out. Truly I am.”
Therese met Ruth’s gaze. “No, you’re not. You never wanted us to marry.”
“I didn’t want him to stay.”
“That was never a possibility.”
“You’re mistaken. It was. But I talked him out of it. I emphasized how detrimental it would be for him—professionally, spiritually, and emotionally.”
Therese’s heart grew heavy with sadness, though she knew it didn’t really matter now. All along she’d thought Alec was calm and pragmatic—but perhaps he was merely dispassionate, not to mention too easily swayed. That wasn’t what she wanted in a husband.
“As for his relationship with you,” Ruth continued, “I merely questioned whether a Southern belle could possess the temerity to survive the harsh realities of a life in Maine.”
Therese’s eyes widened. “Temerity? Please. Never mistake good manners and a gentle demeanor for weakness. I assure you, a true Southern belle can withstand almost anything—as this war has well proven.”
“Point taken.” Ruth smiled, and Therese could feel her harshness softening for the first time since they’d met.
“Ruth, may I ask you a question?”
“Yes?”
“Is everyone else in your family as, uh, direct as you are?”
Ruth surprised her by belting out a laugh. “Direct? You mean demanding? Snappish? Intrusive? Quick to anger?”
Therese’s cheeks warmed even as she nodded.
“We all tend to speak our minds, but I suppose I take it further than most.” She was quiet for a moment and then added, “Actually, from what I understand, I’m a lot like one of my forebears, Jeremiah Talbot, Emmanuel’s youngest son. Family lore has it he was never one to mince words, not even harsh ones. Apparently, when he finally decided to leave Virginia and resettle in the northeast, the rest of his family wasn’t all that sorry to see him go.” Eyes twinkling, she added, “I’m sure you can relate to that. To not being sorry to see someone go.”
It was Therese’s turn to smile. Perhaps this was the marshmallow side of which Alec had spoken.
The two women parted, and Therese resumed her search, finally locating the doctor in his office. She paused in the open doorway.
“Why are you sending Warner home?” she asked, trying hard to keep her tone non-accusatory. “You know he’s getting worse, not better.”
Alec looked up, startled, and then he sat back and clasped his hands together in front of him. “Because the hospital is closing, Therese. For certain this time. The last of the patients will be transferred to Chimborazo this week. I gave your mother the option of sending him there or taking him home, and, no surprise, she chose the latter.”
Therese exhaled slowly, flushed with guilt for her earlier assumptions. Of course Alec would never endanger a patient out of spite. She stepped further into the room.
“What are Warner’s chances of surviving? Please be honest.” When he didn’t reply, she added, “So, not good?”
He shook his head. “There’s no way to know for sure. Hopefully, the gangrene won’t return, but his stomach is still putrid. It could possibly heal, but I’ve rarely seen that before. We’ve done all we can for him. She should take him home.”
“And keep him comfortable?”
Alec nodded. “Keep cleaning out the wound. Do you plan to go with them?”
“Yes.”
“Good. He’ll need you now more than ever.”
Alec stood and walked around his desk, stopping a step from her.
“As for us,” he added, seeming utterly miserable. “Therese. Please reconsider. Tell me you’ll come to Maine eventually. That you still want to be my wife.”
She met his eyes, and their gaze held for a long moment. Dr. Alec Talbot was a good, good man. He just wasn’t the man for her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and she really meant it. She was sorry for hurting him. For not loving him the way he deserved to be loved.
Alec reached for her hand. “At least… may I walk you back to the Galloways’ one last time?”
Therese shook her head and gave his hand a squeeze before pulling away. “The wagon master is giving me a ride.”
“All right.”
“Thank you for everything,” she told him, truly meaning it. Then she hurried from the room before he could respond.
When Therese arrived back at the row house, Mr. Galloway was pacing in the hallway and the midwife was in the back room with Mrs. Galloway. “It’s another girl—we’ve named her Lucy,” Mr. Galloway said. “She’s fine—small but doing all right. Delpha, on the other hand, is having a difficult time.”
“Should I go help?”
Mr. Galloway nodded. “Would you?”
Therese hurried down the hall. The door was open, and she stepped into the room. Mrs. Galloway leaned against the headboard, holding the baby.
“If the bleeding starts up again,” the midwife said, “send your husband to get me.”
“I will.” Mrs. Galloway spoke without taking her gaze from her new daughter. “Thank you.”
The midwife turned to Therese. “She hemorrhaged. It’s stopped, but she needs to take it easy. It’s essential to her survival.”
“I’ll see that she does,” Therese said, though her mind reeled. What about Warner? He needed her, but so did Delpha and the girls.
She spent the rest of the evening caring for the children, putting them to bed, and checking in on the mother and baby over and over. After she went up to her cold room and hunkered under the quilts, she prayed for Aggie and Badan and Ruth and Alec. Then for Mother and Warner. Finally, she prayed for Delpha, the baby, and the rest of the Galloway family. “I need a solution to being in two places at once, Lord,” she whispered. “Or I’ll have to choose between a very ill mother and her baby—or my own brother.”
Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep.
The next morning she awoke with an idea.
She dressed quickly, cared for the girls and the mother and baby, and then, once the midwife arrived to check on Delpha, she hurried to the hospital.
She found Polly beside Warner’s cot. He was sound asleep and didn’t stir.
Polly whispered that Alec and Ruth, along with Badan and Aggie, had already left. Therese let out a sigh of relief. The event she’d so desperately wanted to happen had—they were on their way. Aggie and Badan would soon be safe, and so would their baby.
After allowing herself to savor the moment, she explained to Polly what was going on with the Galloway family.
“My mother can help care for Warner until you or I get home,” Polly said. “I’ll send her a message.”
Matron Webb was sorry to hear that T
herese couldn’t work this last week because of the situation at the Galloways, but at least she understood. Mother was harder to placate, though she did accept the idea of Miss Amanda’s help. She hired a man to take the buggy to River Pines and another to drive a wagon with a bed in the back for Warner. Therese gave her the last of her earnings to pay for it all and met them at the hospital to tell them goodbye. “I’ll come as soon as Mrs. Galloway is better.”
Less than two weeks later, on February 24, the Institute Hospital finally closed its doors. Mr. Galloway told Therese when he got home that evening before heading on to the bedroom to see his wife.
As Therese dished up a thin vegetable soup for the girls, her thoughts drifted to Michael. The morning paper reported there had been little fighting around Petersburg, and she hadn’t heard any artillery that day, but of course it only took one bullet to kill a person. She hadn’t seen him since that horrible night when he’d tried to smuggle Badan and Aggie to who knew where. She shuddered at the thought of it as she dished up two bowls of soup, a small one for Mrs. Galloway and a larger one for her husband, who had begun taking his evening meal with his wife.
Therese started down the hall but then hesitated when she heard Mr. Galloway telling Delpha that the Union Army was getting closer. That fact was already common knowledge, no need to pass it along. Polly had told her that the spy network remained active despite Alec’s departure, but Therese had a feeling her own spying days were over. This war was quickly coming to a close.
“I wish I could send you and the girls home to Louisiana. You’d all be safer there.”
“We can’t leave, not yet,” Mrs. Galloway replied, her voice weak.
With a light knock, Therese entered the room and put the soup on the table beside the bed. At least Mrs. Galloway had been able to nurse the baby, even in her weakness. If she hadn’t, Therese didn’t know what they would have done.
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