“No.” He grabbed her arm. “Don’t leave! Take me!”
“It is better this way,” she whispered, wiping his brow one last time. Then disregarding her heavy heart, and ignoring his anguished cries and pathetic appeals, she turned her back on him and walked away—though heaven knows it was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
* * *
For weeks Andrea tended the wounded of that horrible battle. Hour after hour in those days immediately following, she hastened to the side of the dying, listening to soldiers plead for mercy while they waited for attention from a surgeon. Her task seemed hopeless—and endless—so she no longer took it personally when she arrived too late to staunch the flow of lifeblood that dripped out while they waited. Yet she could not help but wonder, when she gazed out at the rows of lifeless bodies, if Alexander Hunter, too, had been sacrificed to the insatiable war-god that ruled the land.
Although her mind still reeled at the shock of seeing him, her duties and responsibilities distracted her from her grief. It had been days since she had slept more than a few hours and weeks since she had slept a full night. Yet she had no desire for rest. Lying down and closing her eyes would only cause her to dream of heaping piles of entrails steaming in the morning chill or of some mother’s young son holding his leg in bloody arms. The constant cries of “please help me, nurse,” kept her body busy and her mind void of any other thoughts.
“Miss Evans! Wake up!” She heard the voice, but struggled to clear her weary mind. Had she actually fallen asleep?
Andrea opened her eyes and stared at the patient to whom she had been reading, while another voice spoke harshly from behind her. “Miss Evans, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”
Knowing that no one knew where she was, Andrea dismissed the nurse’s announcement. “They must be mistaken,” she said over her shoulder. She leaned forward to wipe the young lad’s brow, apologizing to him for falling asleep.
“There’s been no mistake.”
Andrea swallowed hard at the sound of the voice, straightened slowly in her chair, and turned around hesitantly, afraid she was somehow still dreaming. Her gaze fell upon Hunter leaning on a single crutch, his left arm hanging lifeless in a sling. Although his face was bearded and gaunt, the piercing gray eyes remained unmistakable. Neither war nor wound could diminish his manly strength or vigorous power.
He was still striking.
* * *
“I’ve been looking for you.” Hunter spoke as if their separation had been one of but a few hours. His eyes did not falter or leave her face. They scrutinized, waiting to see her reaction.
Andrea stood and took a hurried breath, but otherwise successfully concealed any emotion. “Then it appears you’ve met with success in your endeavor.” Her gaze wandered down to his leg, and he could tell she was wondering how he was standing so soon after so serious an injury.
“I feared you would not receive me.” Hunter’s heart banged so wildly in its cage, he could barely speak. He could not recall ever having been this frightened, never dreamed she would still have this effect on him. Those beautiful green eyes, though sunken and exhausted, had not lost their magic.
Her expression abruptly changed from a look of relief to one of wariness and heartbreaking suspicion once she recovered from the shock of his appearance.
“This is a hospital, sir,” she finally answered. “We do not turn away the injured, even if …”
Her voice trailed off. She did not finish, but stared straight into his eyes with a gaze so penetrating, Hunter knew she would detect any deception if he showed it. She was obviously questioning in her mind the reason for his visit.
“I-I was afraid they would have to amputate,” she said, looking at his leg again with grave concern.
“It was recommended.” He watched Andrea move her gaze to somewhere over his shoulder with a sorrowful expression that appeared to be a part of her now.
“May I ask what are you doing here?” She returned her gaze and her attention to him.
“I … need to speak with you.” Hunter focused his thoughts back to the task at hand. “Is there some place we can go that’s a little more private?”
“I have duties, sir. I cannot just cast them off.”
“Pray oblige me,” he countered. “I will be leaving in but a few minutes.”
Andrea stared at him intently. “Follow me then. I believe I know a place.”
When they stepped outside and she turned to her left, Hunter put his hand out to stop her. “I prefer we go this way.” The hand in the sling grasped her arm firmly and ushered her toward a wagon holding three injured Confederate soldiers.
Andrea shrugged him off when she saw his intent. “What are you doing?”
Hunter’s voice became low and lethal. “You must understand,” he said, leaning his crutch against the wagon and preparing to help her in. “I’ve come to talk to you, by force, if necessary.”
Andrea took a step back, jerking her arm again from his grasp. “No, you must understand, sir. You are in the middle of an enemy camp.”
“This camp is surrounded,” Hunter replied in an unemotional voice. “My men know their business. If you make a scene, a lot of people could be injured. I hope you will not allow your stubbornness to jeopardize innocent lives.”
He watched Andrea’s gaze jerk over to the three men in the back of the wagon and observed her jaw tighten as the significance of their presence sank in. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to the tree line behind them, then to the hill that rose beyond the row of tents. He knew she imagined, even if she did not see, the silent, vigilant horsemen gazing down from within its shadows.
“But there are injured men here,” she said broodingly, still staring at the tree line. “Surely you would not—”
“We will do what we must.” His voice was low and grave, though his pulse raced with violent force through his veins.
“By thunder, you mean to kidnap me?” She turned back to him with a stamp of her foot. “In broad bloody daylight?”
Hunter’s face crinkled into a smile at her predictable reaction. “You could put it that way, I suppose.”
Andrea’s face bloomed red with rage. She looked at him with wariness and defiance and inflexible determination. “I know no military secrets,” she hissed. “Nor possess anything that would be of interest or value to you.”
Hunter smiled blankly now, giving her no hint as to what he was thinking. “I’m afraid I’ll have to be the judge of that.” He did not allow his voice to betray the offense he took that she would think military information was his purpose.
“But you have no business—”
“I conceive it to be my business, my duty, and, hopefully, my pleasure,” he said coolly.
“But you said it would take only a few minutes!”
“I believe you misunderstood. I said I would be leaving in a few minutes, and indeed I shall. I beg your pardon if I neglected to mention that you will be with me.”
She gasped at his ruse.
Hunter grabbed her arm again. “I regret that there is neither time nor opportunity to talk here any longer. Please get in.”
Knowing she would put up an obstinate defense unless he gave her no other choice, Hunter conveyed by his tone that his statement was an order and that it was seriously uttered. Yet he was practically shivering at her proximity. Never upon any battlefield was his self-control threatened more than on this trying occasion.
Andrea climbed into the wagon, shaking off his attempts to help her. “How dare you,” she muttered under her breath, though she did not cause a scene. She knew what he, and his men, were capable of.
“You need not be under any alarm.” Hunter picked up the reins and moved the horses forward, wondering why he had said the words. The look in her eyes was wild and unearthly, but it was not fright. He was sitting beside a powder keg. And it was giving off sparks.
“What is it you want?”
Hunter did not answer. He remained vigilant now, his eyes i
ntent on the road before them. Only when they met the camp’s sentinels did his demeanor change. He smiled casually at the guard and waved, but one of them stepped out in front of them while another grabbed the reins and brought the horses to a stop.
“Miss Evans,” one said, looking at Hunter suspiciously, “where might you be off to?”
Hunter slid his hand into his coat pocket when Andrea did not answer.
“You leaving us?” the sentry questioned again.
Andrea’s green eyes flicked up to Hunter, expressing once more her displeasure, then she turned to the sentry with a smile. “No need to be alarmed, Corporal,” she said with more gaiety than gloom.
Hunter did not see her hand move as she talked, but he felt its pressure. With her fingers wrapped around his, she kept the gun in his pocket pressed firmly against his thigh.
“There are some injured men at a farmhouse near here that need moved,” she continued without pause. “These men have generously offered to help bring them back.”
“They have a pass I presume,” the sentinel said, glancing at the men in the back doubtfully.
Hunter dared not look at Andrea and she gave him no time to answer. “I would trust my explanation is sufficient, Corporal,” she said, sounding offended that he would ask for further documentation. “I asked for volunteers, and these men kindly came forward. Surely you do not wish to humiliate me among men of such generosity.”
“It’s for your own safety that I ask,” the corporal said, trying to defend himself.
“Corporal Jennings.” Andrea’s tone grew stern and intimidating. “I believe the intentions of these men are honorable and there is no occasion for protection. Are you insinuating I cannot take care of myself?”
“N-o-o, Miss Evans. B-but, you have no escort,” he stuttered, quailing visibly before the look of defiance in her eyes.
“I have just told you these men are my escort!”
The corporal’s face turned instantly red, and his hand dropped to his side as he released the reins. “Pass on!”
Hunter hit the reins against the back of the horses and smiled to himself. Never had he met anyone who could more readily adapt to circumstances beyond her control than the being sitting next to him.
A few miles down the road, Hunter pulled the horses to a stop. The three men in the back jumped off, tearing away their bandages, while eight riders appeared out of nowhere on either side of the road with three extra horses. Without a word, the men went about their business with the precision of a drill team and then disappeared like magic, the shadows of the trees engulfing them instantly and completely.
Hunter ripped the sling off his arm, while Andrea watched the proceedings around her. “See what a skillful nurse you are? Good as new.”
Andrea threw him a look of scorn. “You feigned your injuries?”
“That one I did. Wish I could say the same for this one.” He ran his hand down his leg and grimaced at the pain. “Still hurts damnably … begging your pardon.”
“You shouldn’t be pushing yourself so,” Andrea said in a concerned voice, touching his arm before withdrawing it quickly.
“You are worried about me?” Hunter tried hard to make his voice sound unemotional.
Andrea did not answer and stared straight ahead, obviously annoyed that she had allowed him to see her concern.
Hunter tried to act unmoved at her coldness, but he was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake. He was not sure he was strong enough to endure the ordeal to come.
“Where are we going?” she asked after a few moments silence.
“You’ll see.” He reached into the back of the wagon and pulled out a woolen cloak. “You may need this.”
Andrea looked with cool scrutiny at his offering and accepted it without a word. With the descent of the sun, a chill was back in the air. Pulling the garment on, she put the hood up as if to hide any further emotions. Within moments, the gentle sway of the wagon caused her head to slump, and within a few miles, she was leaning against Hunter’s shoulder in a deep, apparently much needed, sleep.
Chapter 60
“For all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these, ‘it might have been.’”
– John Greenleaf Whittier
Andrea, wake up. We’re here.” Andrea opened her eyes with great effort. “We’re where?” She looked around sleepily, though it was now too dark to see any of her surroundings.
“Where we were going.” Hunter jumped from the wagon, cursing when his leg hit the ground. Putting his hands around Andrea’s waist, he lifted her easily from the seat. Even with his injuries and weariness, he seemed to her like a giant in strength. Yet she thought she felt him trembling once her feet were on the ground.
Andrea’s eyes went to the back of the wagon where a saddle horse stood tied, munching contentedly on hay. She had no idea where it came from or when it had been acquired.
“You must have been very tired,” Hunter said, seeing her questioning stare. He took her hand and led her through the darkness.
They had proceeded but a few steps when Andrea stopped. “What are we doing here?”
“I told you. We need to talk. Go inside.”
“I’ll not!” Andrea crossed her arms and planted her feet
“I insist.” Taking her gently but firmly by the arm, Hunter guided her into the cabin. Although Andrea could see every effort had been made to erase any evidence of the past, the crushing weight of memories descended upon her the instant she inhaled its musty smell.
“I do not see why you deemed it necessary to bring me here.”
“I needed to find a place with privacy,” came the steady reply from behind her as he lit a lamp.
She whirled around to face him, her eyes blazing. “I could have found an empty tent for privacy.”
“I needed a place where you couldn’t get away.”
“You will never find that!” Andrea watched Hunter wince, and the pain in his eyes made her instantly sorry she had said it.
He swallowed hard as if nerving himself forward in a futile charge. “I-I know I have done you a grave injustice.”
Andrea tried to sound nonchalant, as if the pain of the last months had not made her long to die. “Fate and the war have dealt me a number of injustices, Colonel. I’ve not had the time to contemplate them individually—nor do I care to do so now.”
“Andrea, I know I’ve hurt you deeply.”
Andrea threw her hands up in frustration. “Really, must we discuss this? I accept being a casualty of war if that is your desire. Nothing more.”
“A casualty of war? You think not of the past? Of Hawthorne?”
Hunter stood right behind her now. Andrea moved forward, unable to stand the nearness. All the strength of her spirit rebelled against allowing herself to think about the memories he evoked. “The past is a world to which we cannot return. Hawthorne was a thousand years ago and as far from my mind.”
“You cannot mean that.” Hunter sounded hurt and confused. “Never for a moment could I force myself to forget you. The thought of you consumes me.”
Andrea’s insides reeled. No, I don’t mean that. How many minutes of how many hours and how many weeks and months had she yearned for him—yet dreaded ever seeing him again?
She remained silent, staring at the floor and praying it would open up and swallow her. She could not allow him to know the agony he had caused her, did not want to trust him not to cause that misery again. She must end this here and now. Yet the thought of never seeing him again sent a chill down her spine.
“You say you don’t care, yet you are trembling.” He put his hand lightly on her shoulder, and she jumped as if a lightning bolt had struck out of a cloudless sky.
“Don’t touch me, I implore you.” Andrea stepped away. She felt her emotions surging as all of the pain and anguish she had endured over the past few months welled up inside her. Tears formed in her eyes and began running down her cheeks. She put her face in her hands
to hide and sobbed like a child. “You bring up things I do not wish to recall. I am not sufficiently strong to banish such memories!”
“Do you think I want to remember what I said to you? What I did to you? I was a fool!”
Andrea tried to hold back the tears, but there were too many now. She no longer had the power to control her emotions like she once had.
“My words should not wound, I seek to heal.” Hunter turned her around and encircled her in his arms. “Andrea, I beg of you, please say you’ll forgive me!”
Andrea could barely breathe in the tightness of his embrace. She felt his heart pounding wildly against her cheek, felt that manly, prodigious strength she had longed for and never believed she would ever feel again. The sanctuary and strength of his arms felt so good around her—so powerful, yet so gentle, so comforting and so reassuring.
But when she thought of the pain he had caused her, she rallied her strength and pushed him away. “I request not your pity or regret, Colonel Hunter. What’s done is done. We cannot return to the past, nor lament over what could or should or might have been.”
“But we can begin again.”
“We cannot. Too much has happened. Nothing is the same.”
“Much has happened. But little has changed. Come back with me to Hawthorne. I will show you.”
Andrea struggled to remain strong. “Wish what you will. As for me, I have no way of judging the future but by the past—and it is not a place to which I wish to return.” She almost wept afresh when she beheld his expression before he lowered his head.
“You would not say that if you knew what you meant to me.” His voice cracked with emotion.
“I believe I learned quite sufficiently what I meant to you in my last few minutes at Hawthorne,” Andrea replied unemotionally. “Please do not feel you must reiterate those thoughts for me tonight, for I can assure you my memory serves me overly well in that regard.” She angrily wiped fresh tears from her cheeks.
“Andrea, I pray my words have not haunted you as they have haunted me. I hope that you have not hurt as I have hurt!”
Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia Page 45