A Hope Divided

by Alyssa Cole

  His eyes struggled to focus on her face in the darkness of the trees, and in his peripheral vision he saw a falling star streak through the night sky.

  “I wish . . . that wishing could make things so,” he said. He hadn’t been entirely aware he was speaking aloud until Marlie responded.

  “Why is that?” she asked. She was busy cutting through his other pants leg. He lifted her hand to his face.

  “Because then I’d wish that you’d be safe once I die,” he said. “Because I love you.”

  Her hands paused and one came to rest on his against her face.

  “You’re not going to die,” she said. “If it’s come to this, I advise you to save your wishes for something more useful, Socrates.”

  “Perhaps wishing that a beautiful woman with one green eye, one brown, would have me?”

  He heard a hitch in her breath, then felt the back of her hand run gently along his jaw, the briefest of caresses. Then her hand was back on his leg, the graze of her thumb over his shin making him wince in pain.

  “That’s a better wish,” she said. “But save it.”

  Disappointment made Ewan’s head spin for a moment, then she added, “I’m not sure you’ll have me after I set this bone.”

  There, in the worst pain of his life, teetering on the brink of passing out, and short a pint or two of blood, Ewan smiled and made his wish.

  CHAPTER 27

  Marlie didn’t know what to do when she heard the sound of boots approaching. Ewan was unconscious, though the bleeding had stopped. She held her hands pressed to the wound, mind running through different cures. The truth was, she wasn’t sure he could be cured. That was an outcome she couldn’t accept.

  She turned and caught sight of a lantern, and the reflection off of a familiar wicked sharp knife. She was nearly sick with fear but swallowed against the bile and stood. She wouldn’t let Cahill hurt Ewan. She wouldn’t. . . .

  The swinging lantern grew closer, and that was when she realized it moved smoothly—there was no limp in the gait of the person who carried it.

  “Any sight of them?” a familiar voice called out.

  “Henry! Henry, help, it’s—”

  “Quiet.”

  The voice came from behind her, and when she turned she saw a man bent down beside Ewan, his hand at Ewan’s pale throat. The man was darker than her, a rough beard obscuring half his face. But when he looked up, his brown eyes fixed her with a hard stare that chilled her as much as Cahill’s had. No, not hard: There was a frightening, liquid anger there, barely constrained. He pulled one of Ewan’s arms around his neck as Henry approached.

  “This who you were looking for?” Henry asked as he approached, lantern in one hand and Cahill’s knife in the other. Marlie did not ask how he acquired it or what had become of its owner.

  “If it’s McCall it is,” the man lifting Ewan said.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  Henry took a step closer, hand gripping the hilt of Cahill’s knife more tightly. “He said he was with that Loyal League group you mentioned and asked for the ginger. I thought he was a friend.”

  “I’m not a friend,” he said. “I’m a man who doesn’t leave a debt unpaid. And I owe this man’s brother a debt.” He nearly spat the words, but his anger didn’t seem to be directed toward Ewan. “Help me get him to shelter.”

  Henry and a few of the other skulkers helped carry Ewan to a nearby cave where a portion of the men had relocated after the attack. The skulkers had won in the skirmish against the Home Guard in Randolph, then doubled back to find their home base under attack.

  Marlie dosed Ewan with the dandelion root sedative and set his broken bone as best she could. He came to for a moment, then receded back into sleep. He’d lost so much blood....

  Henry constructed a sturdy splint made from the strong branches of cherrywood while she tended to the other skulkers.

  When she returned to Ewan’s side the man who had come upon them in the woods, Daniel, sat staring at him. She took a seat on the ground beside him and waited for him to speak.

  When he’d ignored her for far longer than was comfortable, she asked, “You’re with the Loyal League, you say?”

  He nodded. “I was very surprised to learn there was an operative already on the ground. Particularly one I had never had any contact with. Particularly a Lynch.” He leaned back and regarded her, a derisive smirk on his face. “A rich, sheltered miss playing at war with her white soldier boy?”

  Marlie resented the condescension in his tone. “You know nothing about me, sir, and whether my family has money or not is irrelevant to my utility. To the Cause.”

  “And what utility is that?”

  “I care for people. I heal them. A man like you might look down on that, but my maman did, and my maman’s maman before that. It’s a gift, and some in the Loyal League seem happy to receive it.”

  “And what will you do when you tire of the war? Or he tires of you?” He inclined his head toward Ewan. Daniel’s blunt words skewered her, but she wouldn’t flinch away from questions she would ask of herself.

  “Ewan isn’t the type to handle another’s feelings so casually. He doesn’t lie. And if I decide to make a go of it with him, I won’t regret it, no matter the outcome.”

  “People change,” Daniel insisted. “Or sometimes they don’t, but you never truly knew them.”

  “Do you speak from experience?” she asked. “Already forgotten your sweetheart and expect the same of every man?”

  Daniel sucked in a breath, and Marlie reached a hand out instinctively, touching his shoulder. He had spoken from experience, she realized, but not the one she had assumed. “I’m sorry. I should not have lashed out at you.”

  Daniel shook his head. “I should not have baited you into it. It seems these McCalls have all the luck when it comes to love.”

  “I don’t—” Marlie stopped. “I’m not even sure what love is.”

  “I watched you face off against an unknown man with nothing but your bare hands in order to protect this McCall,” Daniel said. “If you don’t know what love is, you’re well on your way to finding out.” He gave a bitter laugh. “May you have a better try at it than I did.”

  * * *

  Ewan awoke with the bright spring sunshine warming his face. He didn’t know where he was: There was a real bed, and daylight shining through a window. A Negro man stood beside the window, one arm braced against the frame.

  Ewan’s mouth was very dry, but he managed one brittle word. “Marlie.”

  The man turned to him. For a moment, his expression was gentle, but it flattened to something unreadable when he realized Ewan was awake, not talking in his sleep. “The prodigal son awakens,” the man said.

  “Where is Marlie?” Ewan said, sitting up. His head swam, but the last thing he remembered was sitting with Marlie under a tree. Had she run when she had the chance? Had she been captured? His heart began thudding painfully and he reached a hand to his head.

  “In Tennessee, as are you. She’s making you some tisane and bone broth, as she has been for the duration of this trip,” the man said. “I’m Daniel. Your brother and . . . sister-in-law had asked that we detectives keep an eye out for you, and they’d had word of a man fitting your description wanted for a prison break in the area.”

  “Is the Loyal League in the habit of using resources to hunt down missing family members?” Ewan asked irritably. He wanted to see Marlie. He couldn’t trust the word of a strange man.

  “No, but if an opportunity arises while on a mission, I’m not one to turn it down,” the man said. “And the opportunity to draw even with your brother is not one I could pass up.”

  “Do you owe him so large a debt?” Ewan asked, confused. He knew Malcolm was charming, but the intensity in this man’s face was at odds with his words.

  “I begrudge him that debt. I begrudge him his wife. But he saved me and I cannot live with him holding that over me too.”

  The door opened an
d Marlie walked in carrying a tray. She was thinner than she had been, and her hair frizzed messily around her face, but the smile she gave him when she saw him sitting up was radiant.

  “You’re awake,” she said, placing the tray on the table next to his bed.

  “I certainly hope so. If this is a dream and I awaken in yet another Confederate prison, I’m going to be sorely disappointed.”

  She laughed, and the sound soothed away his aches and worries.

  “Daniel is going to accompany you to Kentucky,” she said.

  Ewan glanced at the man. “Paying the debt still?”

  Daniel nodded, then strode out of the room.

  “There was a letter. From my aunt.” She ladled up a spoonful of broth and fed it to him. Ewan savored the rich flavors, but his gaze was on Marlie’s closed-off expression.

  “She apologized. Said she loves me. Asked me to come back because Melody left soon after news of Cahill’s death.”

  Ewan swallowed hard.

  “Do you want to go back?” he asked.

  Marlie inclined her head to the side. “I miss Sarah. I want to go home. But I don’t think Lynchwood is my home any longer. I’ll have to search for a new one.”

  Ewan opened his mouth to speak, but found his lips wrapped around the spoon.

  “My contact with the Loyal League has asked if I would accompany you and Daniel,” Marlie said. “He says there are places along the way where my work can be useful, and he’d like me to teach some of their operatives.”

  Ewan felt both pride and worry, but pushed away the latter.

  “That’s wonderful, Marlie,” he said. “And once I make it home?”

  She spooned up some broth for him, her smile faltering.

  “We’ll see, Socrates. Open up.”

  “Don’t forget we still have to finish the translation,” he said before closing his mouth around the spoon. It seemed he wasn’t above manipulation.

  EPILOGUE

  Kentucky, two months later

  “Are you sure this is the proper placement?”

  Marlie looked up from where she was tightening a bolt on the still she and Ewan had been constructing over the last two weeks and stared at him. He nodded abruptly, and cleared his throat.

  “Right. It’s your design so you would know if it wasn’t.”

  “Correct,” she said, bending over to resume her work.

  He took a step closer to her, leaned his cane against the worktable in the spare room of his small home, and rested both of his hands on the flare of her waist. “In fact, I think perhaps you only asked me to assist you because you were tired of weeks of my bothersome behavior while I convalesced.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, standing and turning to face him. His fingertips remained in place as she turned, tracing the circumference of her waist through the gingham dress she wore and then locking behind her back when her nose was a few inches from his. His eyes were warm with mirth, closer to sky blue.

  “My need for distraction in the weeks after we finished translating your mother’s book was obvious. Did you or did you not threaten to break my other leg if I didn’t stop trying to get up and walk about?”

  “That was not a threat, it was a sound medical recommendation, seconded by your doctor and your mother, I might add,” she said. “Sometimes a patient must be coerced into health.”

  “And sometimes a patient is very amenable to coercion, depending on the person doing the coercing,” he said, pulling her closer into his embrace and nuzzling against her neck. “You can only blame yourself for giving me a good reason to recover more quickly.”

  And there it was. Ewan was recovering quickly, which meant it was time to bring up the topic he had been steadfastly avoiding.

  “The still is almost in working order, too. It should survive its impending move with no problem,” she said.

  His arms pressed into her waist and then released, as if he had realized he was tightening his hold on her.

  “I thought we agreed this was the best room for it,” he said. The mirth had left his eyes.

  “In this house, yes,” she said. “But I noticed a room for rent in town that will rent to Negroes, above the pharmacy, actually, and I think now that you’re fully mobile perhaps I should relocate.”

  She couldn’t look at him as she said it. She enjoyed their daily meals, and waking up beside him in bed—even the time passed with his mother when she came by to check on her boy. But she had also enjoyed her life with Sarah, and that didn’t change the fact that she had been living, and loved, under false pretenses.

  “I don’t understand. I thought that you would stay here with me,” he said. “Malcolm will be here in a few days with his wife. I want you here to meet them.”

  “I can come by for dinner,” she said. She picked up a wrench and began tightening bolts, but Ewan placed his hand over hers, staying the motion.

  “No. I want you here,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because we get along well,” he said. “And I’m used to having you here.”

  “We can get along well even if I don’t live with you,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment. “And being used to someone is not the same as—”

  She stopped herself before saying too much.

  “Marlie.” His expression pinched. “Do you not like being with me? I know I’m difficult and I won’t lie and say I’ll change completely, but I can modify my behavior if necessary.”

  “You’re fine as you are,” she said. I love you as you are.

  “Then why do you insist on leaving?”

  Marlie wasn’t quite sure herself. Perhaps because she had no idea what she was to Ewan, though she didn’t doubt he cared. Because she was frightened of never being able to move on once he decided to hurt her, as everyone in her life had.

  “Well, I feel foolish,” he said. He dug into the pocket of his jacket. “Am I to assume you have no interest in this?”

  Marlie’s heart stopped at the sight of the shining band in his hand.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “It’s a gold ring, used to signify the desire to spend the rest of one’s life with another human.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Well, primarily because one has found the sole person who makes them feel at peace and whom they can’t imagine spending a single day without.”

  “Ewan,” she said.

  “Marlie?” He raised his brows.

  “Tell me why.”

  “Because I love you, which you are aware of but continue to operate under the false assumption that this is some lark. I thought perhaps wearing this ring might serve as a reminder of my commitment to you. And hopefully yours to me, if that’s what you wish.”

  She was staring at the ring, her happiness warring with her fear.

  “But . . .”

  “If you want me to get on one knee that’s not possible right now, but I’ll help you onto the table beside the still if that makes this more romantic for you.”

  She stuttered out something between laughter and a sob.

  “I need time,” she said. If he was disappointed he hid it well, but that wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for Ewan.

  “Of course,” he said. “I’ll just remind you I was planning to ask before you announced you were leaving, so don’t think this is in reaction to anything other than my desire to be with you.”

  His cheeks went pink and he cleared his throat before grabbing his cane and making his way toward the door.

  Marlie stood holding her wrench. She thought of the last pages of her mother’s book, and the hopes and wishes she’d shared for Marlie.

  “I know that you will find great love in this world, as well as success, not because of that science you now hold so dear but because I have seen it in my dreams and I have felt it in my bones. I only hope you understand what you deserve better than I did. When the time comes, close your eyes and listen to your heart, which may lead you astra
y but will always guide you to the path you were meant to take.”

  Marlie closed her eyes and clutched the wrench in her hand.

  “Ewan?”

  There was the sound of his cane thudding against the floor, and then silence. “Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that your answer? Already?”

  “Have you changed your mind?” She opened her eyes and began walking to him.

  “Well, no. I had just begun to form a plan to make you change your mind, and now I’ve got to scrap it.”

  She walked into his embrace and sighed as his lips brushed her cheek. “You know, I’ve come to enjoy debating with you. Feel free to convince me at your leisure.”

  He kissed her then, as was only logical.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First and foremost, I’d like to thank the Kensington Publishing team for their unerring support and guidance with the Loyal League series. Meeting and working with everyone at Kensington has been a pleasure.

  I’d also like to thank Bree, Courtney, Alisha, and Rebekah for having my back when the going gets tough; Lena for being a great partner in crime; Julia for always helping put things in perspective; and the many other authors who form an awesome support network.

  Lastly, I’d like to thank the readers who make writing these books worthwhile. Every tweet, email, and message help me immeasurably.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  One of the reasons I enjoy writing about the Civil War is the research. (This is paradoxical because the research is also the hardest part.) Because the pop culture narrative has been flattened into a few two-dimensional stories—Southern belles, brothers versus brothers, etc.—finding a rich and varying American history in my research, and being able to use this history in my books, have been wonderful.

  In A Hope Divided, I feature Southerners who, for a variety of reasons, fought back against the Confederacy on their own soil. This is fascinating to me, viewed through the lens of Southern pride’s near erasure of these narratives. Some of these people were Quakers or abolitionists, others simply did not agree with the secession, but all provide a more nuanced view than has been provided in most studies of Northern and Southern citizens during the war. There were also Unionists, like Sarah Lynch (based on Richmond, Virginia’s Elizabeth van Lew), all over the South, engaged in the work of subverting the Confederacy.