Heart's Surrender

by Rosanne Bittner

  A few had managed to hang on and were slowly rebuilding a life. Andrea had always thought Adam would be one of them. But now that hope was dwindling.

  Toward evening of the third day he finally came home, but he was so drunk he half fell off his horse. He greeted her with a grin, placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned over to kiss her. But his breath repulsed her, and she knocked his hands away. “Where have you been? I smell perfume mixed in with that whiskey breath! Cheap perfume—the kind whores use.”

  His eyes moved over her. “Better the whores than you. I don’t deserve to lie in bed with my beloved wife any longer.”

  “Stop it, Adam! I can’t take anymore. I keep waiting for you to find your pride again. You said you’d find it if you got your revenge. You got it, and you’ve gone downhill ever since! If you want to be a man, then stop drinking!”

  He grasped her arm. “I told you once not to tell me what to do.”

  “I’ll tell you whatever I like! I love you. I can’t just sit and watch you destroy yourself, Adam! I need you. Your sons need you. This farm needs you. You say you failed us before. But you didn’t. You were more man than I could ever want. But what I’m looking at now is no man! You’ve become so weak that you let whiskey rule your life!”

  The blow came too quick for her to be prepared. She felt herself falling sideways into a chest of drawers, and her ears rang. Her face was instantly hot and stinging, and for a moment she could not even grasp what he had done. She fought to get her breath, realizing with horror that he had hit her. Adam had hit her! Beautiful, sweet Adam had hit her. It seemed incredible. Never had she had to be afraid of such a thing. Never had she once considered that Adam Chandler would hit her.

  She heard a choking sound near her then and someone was lifting her, holding her. “Andrea! Andrea! My God, Andrea, forgive me. Forgive me! Help me, Andrea.”

  It took her a moment to regain her senses, and all the while he gently kissed her puffed, red cheek and held her so tightly she could barely breathe.

  “I…want to stop, Andrea, really I do,” he groaned. “I…don’t know…howl I’ve lost myself. I see faces…faces of men I have killed…faces of militia men…my father…my mother. I hear screams…and see him…raping you. The whiskey…makes it all go away.”

  She decided that was the time to be firm. Perhaps his hitting her was the best thing that could have happened.

  “You’ve got to stop, Adam,” she told him with a note of finality. “If you don’t, I’ll leave you. I can’t live this way anymore. I need you…but not the Adam who is holding me now. I need my husband back. He left me somewhere along the Trail of Tears.”

  He held her against his trembling body for a long time, then pulled back, putting a hand to her swollen face. Tears ran down his cheeks. “What should I do, Andrea?”

  She dropped her eyes and pulled away. “I don’t know, Adam. Whatever it is, you have to do it alone. All I know is that I have lost my husband.” She turned away and he made a groaning sound and ran out. In the next moment she heard his horse gallop off, and she felt a grief almost as heavy as if he had died.

  Six weeks passed with no word. Andrea spent most of the time with James and Ruth, but she felt in the way at their place. Ruth was pregnant again, and James seemed to be coming around better than some of the others. He tended his farm faithfully, and both he and Ruth were glad to give Andrea and the boys shelter. But it was too much of a burden for them. Since Andrea had no idea whether Adam would come back, she had to make a decision, and she began to pack her few possessions for the trip north to the Methodist mission. At least there she would have shelter until she decided how she was to survive. Adam might be drunk, or he might have killed himself. How she would manage to go on, she wasn’t sure, for she blamed herself for letting him go away that awful night. She should have stopped him. He’d needed her and she had failed him. At the time it had seemed right to turn away from him, but now she was not so sure, and her agony was almost unbearable. If it were not for Jonas and John, Andrea would have found it impossible to go on living.

  Adam! What had happened to their beautiful love? There had been a time when she’d been so sure it could not die, and for her own part it had not. But it was not today’s Adam that she still loved. She still loved the proud, intelligent, fiery Cherokee man she had married, not the broken, weak man he had become because of the whiskey.

  Jonas was ten now, and John Ross was nearly nine. She had taught them as best she could, but neither of them had yet had any formal schooling. At least at the mission they could get that for the time being. Soon schools would be built right here in Indian Territory, but she could not wait, at least not without Adam. If he were here…But it was no use wishing or hoping. The brown bottle had been too powerful for him.

  She set two carpetbags near the door and started to pack the dishes. So little was left from the grand estate Adam and Jonas Chandler had once owned. And she had nothing left from her childhood. Pain went through her at the thought of her dead mother and of the secret the woman had lived with for so many years. Life was so strange, so often ruled by fate and restricted by lies. But her love for Adam Chandler had never been a lie. It was the most real, the most beautiful experience she would ever know, and in spite of all she had been through she did not regret it. If it were not for the whiskey and for the bitterness in his own heart, that love could still be as beautiful as it was in the beginning.

  She heard a horse then, and her heart quickened. Suddenly chilled, she stood frozen in place. Could she hope it was her husband? Moments later she heard Jonas and John shouting, “Father! Father! Where did you go?”

  Andrea felt limp and nervous, suddenly wondered how she looked; for outside she could hear Adam laughing and talking to his sons, in a way she had not heard him talk and laugh in months. He almost sounded like the old Adam.

  “Where is your mommy?” he was asking.

  “She’s in the house. She is packing things to go away,” Jonas told him. “Don’t let her go, Father. We want to stay here by Aunt Ruth and Uncle James. And if she goes away we might not see you anymore.”

  There was a moment of silence. “Don’t you worry. Your mommy isn’t going anywhere.” His voice was still cheerful. He wasn’t angry. “You two run over to Aunt Ruth’s and tell her I am back and I want you to stay there for a while. She will understand. I will go and talk to mommy.”

  There was a moment of playful laughter, then silence. Andrea clung to the back of a wooden chair, feeling as nervous as when she had first met Adam Chandler and had been overwhelmed by his handsomeness and his charm.

  When the door opened, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He was clean and neat, wearing tight-fitting black pants and a white shirt with a ruffled front. His wavy dark hair was neatly cut, making a neat contour around his collar. And his eyes were bright, not dull and red; his smile was quick, the old smile of the old Adam. At that moment he seemed more handsome than he had ever been since she’d met him fourteen years earlier. His eyes ran over her in the old, teasing way, that provocative way that made Andrea feel under his power.

  He closed the door. “The boys say you’re going away.”

  “I…” She swallowed. “I had to do something. We’ve no money—”

  He held up a finger. “Wrong, Mrs. Chandler. Everything is going to be different from now on. I hope you’ll stay long enough to let me prove it.”

  “I don’t understand. Where have you been?”

  He stepped closer. “I will tell you. But first I wish you would let me hold you.”

  Her tears came then, and she fell into his arms. “Oh, Adam, where did you go? I felt like it was my fault. I thought you…killed yourself or something awful had happened to you.”

  “What happened was your fault, and it was good. You are a smart woman and a beautiful, wonderful, devoted wife, and you’ve put up with hell this past year.” He kissed her hair. “God, forgive me, Andrea, especially for hitting you. When I did that,
I knew I had lost myself and that I would lose you and my sons if I didn’t change.”

  She hugged him tightly. Did she dare believe this was really happening, that she had her old Adam back? Yet here he was, holding her, apologizing, telling her he had changed. She leaned back and looked up at him, and his lips met hers then in a hungry kiss, a passionate kiss, the kind of kiss neither had offered the other since they’d been torn from their home over a year ago. And they had not made love since that had happened. Both had a hunger long buried. Both had something to prove to themselves—and to each other. Could they find that sweet passion they had known under the oak tree? Could they rekindle that wonder, that glory? It was a silly question. One heated kiss told them the answer, and there was one thing they must do before they did any more talking. One aspect of their marriage had been neglected far too long.

  Adam showered her with kisses, and she whispered his name over and over. He felt her apprehension, knew what her memories were like. But he knew he would erase them and reclaim his woman. It was over now. He had avenged her; all the hatred and bitterness was out of him.

  Andrea was soon lost in a swirl of tender kisses and whispered Cherokee words of love. Strong arms carried her to the bed, gentle hands undressed her, warm lips explored, tasted, caressed; loving her so gently, so perfectly, in the way Adam Chandler used to love her. His body was somehow naked then, hot and trembling. How he needed her! And she needed him! It was ecstasy to be lying beneath her handsome Cherokee man again, letting him possess her, claim her, love her. They laughed and cried, teasing at one moment, serious the next, touching, enjoying. She opened herself to him and he came inside, pushing, wanting, erasing all bad memories. She wondered how this act could be so horrifying with one man, and so beautiful with another. Yet there had been a time when she’d thought she could never again enjoy such pleasure.

  She arched up to him, wanting to give and give; he drove deep and hard, wanting to do the same, reminding himself that he was her first man. Andrea Chandler’s virginity belonged only to him; he was the only man she had been willing to entrust with her body and heart.

  It had all been so quick, almost frantic. At one moment he was standing at the door; the next he was invading her, one with her. Love had won out after all, and Andrea’s heart had never known such joy. Was it only minutes, or was it hours that they lay there sharing bodies, moist skin against moist skin, silken touches and tender kisses throwing them both into rapture unlike any they had shared.

  His life poured into her then, and he cried out with the ecstasy of the moment, then released a long sigh and rolled onto his side, keeping her in his arms. He pulled the blankets over them and Andrea snuggled close, savoring every beautiful moment, feeling once again sheltered and protected—Adam was home.

  “I’ve been to Independence,” he told her. “I will tell you everything about what happened the night I killed Douglas Means. It is over now, and things have calmed down. Nothing more can happen, for only you and one other person know. I have already seen that person—and his father.”

  She frowned, pulling back to meet his dark eyes. “Adam, what on earth—”

  He put his fingers to her lips. “When they took us to the holding camp, the Federal in charge had heard of my work in the fight to stay in Georgia. He felt sorry for me, the way they had beaten me and all. You were probably in too bad a way then to remember him. At my request he went to the militia camp and sought you out. He brought you back, and when he saw how you had been treated, he was very angry, especially since you were white. He understood my manly feelings, my need for revenge.” Adam sighed and pulled her close. “I was like a crazy man then, Andrea. I felt I had failed you, and the only way to make it up to you was to kill Douglas Means. The lieutenant understood. He is a good man, a man of compassion. He stood guard over me that night, and after dark he let me go and gave me a knife, told me where I could find Douglas Means. I left my clothes behind so I would not get blood on them. Then I killed him, and I washed myself in a creek before returning. The lieutenant chained me back up, and when the militia came in the morning he told them I had been there all night. There was no way to prove otherwise, and it was obvious that in the chains I could do nothing.”

  She kissed his chest. “But what does that have to do with Independence?”

  He grinned. “That is the best part. The lieutenant’s name is Martin Renfro, and he is from Independence. His father is an attorney there. Martin told me before he left the prison camp that if I was ever in bad need, I should come there and his father would give me a job as an apprentice. He had heard I was Harvard educated. I wasn’t sure he was really serious about his father giving a job to a Cherokee Indian. But considering what was happening to me here, I knew the only way I could get back on my feet was to leave this place and use my education—get back to work with books and laws—use my brains again instead of dousing them with whiskey. Others have been able to get on their feet right here, like James has. But I can’t get used to it here, Andrea. And most of the others can’t either. It will be a long struggle, but I decided that I should use the education for which my father paid so dearly. So I went to Independence.”

  She hugged him tightly. “Oh, Adam, you got the job?”

  He wound his fingers in her golden hair. “Yes. Martin’s father is a very gracious man. Now I understand why his son is such a fine man. Martin was there himself and is preparing to finish his own schooling. He is out of the Army now. He is a good man and will be a reliable friend. At any rate, I wrote up some briefs for his father, who was very impressed by how quickly I got them finished, considering that I was unfamiliar with the cases involved. He paid me for that work and gave me an advance so I might return and then go back to work under him for one year.” Adam pulled back, touching her face with a big hand. “I am going back, Andrea. I will work hard, and I will send you money regularly, some for you and some for Ruth and James, to cover the cost of letting you stay with them. And in a few months, when I am sure it will all work out, I’ll find us a place to live and send for you. But at first, I think I would like to work very long hours and just take a room for sleeping. I want to prove myself quickly, Andrea, perhaps be a full-fledged lawyer much sooner than most. Then I can slow down a little and you can come there. At first there will be little time for my family, and you would be all alone in a strange city. I want to break the children in gently to that new life, be with them as much as I can at first. Will you wait here for a few months? I promise it will not be too long, perhaps six or eight months.”

  She put a hand over his. “It will seem like forever, but considering the reason for our separation, I’ll do whatever you want. Just knowing I have my old Adam back is all I need.” She was afraid to ask, but knew she had to. “What about the whiskey, Adam?”

  He shook his head. “The first week was bad. I have not touched a drop since I left here that night. I knew getting off it was the first thing I had to do. But I was miserable. The pain and the bad dreams were terrible. I stayed alone on the prairie, sometimes rolling in the buffalo grass and feeling like a crazy man. After a few days it got better, but I was shaking all the time. By the time I got to Independence I was over it.” He kissed her forehead. “No more whiskey, Andrea. I promise you. And I renew the other promises I made. Someday I will be a wealthy attorney, and I will find a way to legally buy back my land. We will go back to Georgia wealthy and successful, Andrea Chandler, and I will open a law practice there, and we will live in a grand brick home and go and sit under the oak tree whenever we choose.”

  “Oh, Adam, do you really think we can go back, after all the things that happened there? Maybe it’s best to stay in Independence.”

  “No. Things will change. The hatred will die down. And I will offer your father or whoever else owns the place by then so much money it would be impossible to turn it down.” He grinned. “Only they will not know it is Adam Chandler who wants to buy it. I will send a white man to represent me. Even if we do not move th
ere right away, it will feel good knowing I own that land again. But we will be rich enough to take our time deciding. This I promise you, my beautiful and elegant wife.”

  She laughed lightly. “Adam, it’s all so wonderful. I can’t believe it.”

  His eyes teared. “God sent Martin Renfro to me on that terrible day, I am sure of it. He let me get my revenge, and then he opened a path by which I could find my way back out of hell. I know I will be successful, Andrea. I am too determined to fail. And once I am a licensed attorney, I will do all I can to continue to help the Cherokee, for I see more troubles in the future. The white man will not stop at Indian Territory, Andrea. He will go on through, all the way to California. More Indians will suffer what we suffered in Georgia, and much of this Indian Territory they have given us will be taken away. The wilder Indians, those who ride the plains and hunt the buffalo, will suffer just as we did; they will be pushed onto reservations. I see it all happening, and there will be no stopping it. But I have an education, and I intend to show them just how resilient and successful an Indian can be.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his lips. “And I know you’ll do it.” Her eyes teared. “Oh, Adam, I’m so happy. I’m so proud of you. But it will be hard, waiting.”

  “I will write often, and I will make love to you in my dreams.”

  Their eyes held. It had been so long. So long…There was so much to make up for, so much to experience all over again. Their love had been reawakened, along with their passion. She was suddenly fourteen again, and he was sixteen, and they lay under the great, protective arms of the oak tree. He moved on top of her then, parting her lips with a tender kiss. After this long, they must be one again, only this time they would make love slowly. They would take their time and enjoy every tiny touch. The sweet scent of lovemaking, of heated bodies, filled the small sod house. To Andrea it was like the aroma of spring flowers. She did not see the sod house at all. She looked up as he entered her, and she saw only golden leaves and a blue sky beyond.