Daniel entered the room behind her. “Emily, I have a proposition for you. What would you say to a short holiday at my parents’ home? They live a few blocks from here, in an old-fashioned house with a lovely garden. I have a standing invitation to Sunday dinner, and I think a day off would do us both some good.” He inched nearer. “You could meet my sister Anne and the children.”
Emily’s heart filled with gratitude. The invitation was thoughtful, but her schoolwork begged her attention. “Thank you, Daniel. It sounds delightful, but I can’t accept right now.”
He accurately guessed her reasons. “After your brother recovers?”
“I’d love to.”
“Very well. I’ll hold you to it.”
The bell rang and heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Are you ready for this?”
She smiled and nodded. Let the morning begin.
***
Jeremiah regained his strength quickly. It had become his habit to accompany Emily on short walks around the hospital grounds each evening before he received his supper. A few days after Daniel’s invitation, they returned to find the doctor lingering in the ward, waiting for them. Emily’s stomach flipped upside down. The moment of truth had arrived.
Jeremiah’s face did not divulge the turmoil he must be experiencing. He sat stoically on the edge of the bed as the doctor unwound the length of gauze. “Ease your eyes open slowly,” the doctor instructed. “You may have some light sensitivity after so long in the dark.”
Jeremiah squinted and blinked rapidly, turning his head to scan the room.
“What can you see?” Emily asked around the apple in her throat. Half a dozen of Jeremiah’s nearest neighbors looked on curiously.
“Light,” he answered, “streaming in through the windows. Darkness in between. I see white sheets. Figures in the beds.” He looked right at Emily and smiled. “And an angel.”
Emily squealed and clapped her hands together. “You can see!”
“You’re a fuzzy angel.”
The tension leaked from the room. Smiles lifted the faces of Jeremiah’s friends. “I think this man has been faking illness,” called the man in the bed to their left. “There’s nothing wrong with him.”
Jeremiah squinted in his direction. “Anderson, that’s what you look like? Doctor, you better check the vision of this man’s wife.”
This brought a burst of raucous laughter. A pillow sailed through the air and caught Jeremiah in the side of the head.
“All right,” the doctor said, restoring order. “Mr. Preston, are you literate?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’d like you to read these to me.” He held up a chart with letters of various sizes. “Keep going until you can’t see them clearly anymore.”
He read the large E and the slightly smaller F and P, but struggled to make out the third line. Emily could read almost to the bottom, and from a greater distance, but Jeremiah squinted and strained and finally shook his head.
“You have considerably more vision than I expected,” the doctor said, putting a positive spin on the situation. “It may be that it will improve somewhat with time, but we simply don’t know.”
“Would spectacles be an option?” Emily asked.
“Unfortunately, no. When the retina has sustained damage, even a properly focused image will not translate correctly. Obviously, this means I’ll put in for a disability discharge. Do you have someplace you can go once you’re released, Mr. Preston?”
Jeremiah hesitated. “I’ll find a place.”
The doctor wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “This is the name of a local organization that serves colored veterans. They can help you locate lodging and may even find a work placement.”
Emily read over Jeremiah’s shoulder. The note contained the address of a local church.
“You have a week or so before the discharge papers come through. In the meantime, I’d like to keep a watch on those eyes for a few more days.” Before he left, the doctor pulled back Jeremiah’s eyelids, had him track his finger, and jotted down a few more notes. “I’m very pleased, Mr. Preston. Enjoy your evening. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Well, this is good news,” Emily said. After the threat of blindness, partial sight seemed something to celebrate. “How are you feeling?”
Jeremiah ran a hand over his head, rubbing off the feel of the gauze. “Sort of like I’m holding an empty mess tin. I’m relieved I didn’t get served up the slop I thought was coming, but I’m still nervous about what’s for dinner. Everything’s going to be different now, you know?”
“It will be. But I’m not worried. Whatever life dishes out, you’ll be able to handle it just fine.” She held out her hand. “If you give me that address, I’ll stop by on my way home and see what they say.”
***
It was another two weeks before Emily finally agreed to dinner with Daniel. She dressed with anticipation. After everything Daniel had told her about Anne, she was looking forward to meeting her. And if Mr. and Mrs. Harnish were anything like their son, she was certain they would get on well, even if they were Yankees.
Daniel picked her up in his parents’ shay. Their drive through the city was pleasant, even with the weak sunshine and a cold breeze blowing in off the water. He turned the vehicle down the same road as Missouri’s boardinghouse and pulled into a similarly styled Georgian house a block farther.
“This is beautiful,” she proclaimed, taking in the genteel old home with its carriage house and stable. It had the stately air of a modest English manor.
Daniel helped her to the ground and handed the horse off to a stoop-shouldered old groom. “It’s home,” he said modestly. “More so than my own apartment.”
He guided her inside to a parlor with a cheerfully burning fire. She went immediately to stretch her chilled fingers toward the heat. “Let me take your wrap,” he offered.
When he returned moments later, he was carrying a china tea service. “Dinner isn’t quite ready. Would you care for a cup of tea while we wait?”
“I’d love some.”
She sat down across from him and watched him pour. “You’ve only brought two settings,” she observed. “Is no one joining us?”
Looking mildly embarrassed, he handed her a cup. “I, uh, am afraid I have another confession to make.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Anne isn’t coming.” He darted a look into the corner. “And my parents aren’t actually home this weekend.”
She stiffened. “And you waited until now to tell me?”
“This wasn’t intentional,” he hastily explained. “My sister delivered early and sent for my mother. Pop went with her. We’ve already put this off once—three weeks ago. I didn’t want to cancel again.”
She regarded him seriously, trying to gauge his intentions.
He wilted, setting his teacup down with a sigh. “My parents are fully aware of our plans, but if you’re uncomfortable, I’ll drive you home.”
It wasn’t a matter of propriety. They spent hours alone together every week. She just didn’t want him reading anything into their relationship. “I’d rather you’d just been honest with me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I’ve just really been looking forward to this. I had hoped you could meet my family, but I still wanted to show you where I grew up. And I had a new idea I wanted to discuss with you.”
He looked so woebegone and his purpose seemed so innocent that she relented. “Daniel, I don’t want to go home.”
“You don’t?”
She smiled. “I’m too hungry.”
He brightened immediately. “Mrs. Armintrout is a wonderful cook. She’s making cherry chicken and sweet potatoes, my absolute favorite meal. You’re going to adore it. And then I want to show you some of my early photography work.” He laughed. “You’ll probably find it amusing.”
Mrs. Armintrout soon summoned them to the dining room. She was a
tiny, birdlike woman with a direct gaze and a genuine smile. She seated them and asked Emily a few frank, friendly questions before retiring to the kitchen and leaving them to their dinner.
“I like her,” Emily commented.
“Everybody does. She’s cooked for my parents for twenty-seven years.”
The meal was just as amazing as Daniel had promised. Emily did away with dainty manners, choosing to eat her fill instead. By the time she finished two helpings of chicken, she was wishing she could loosen her corset. “I hope there isn’t dessert.” She groaned. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“I thought I smelled apple pie, but we can sample it later. I’ve got something to show you first.”
He grabbed a copy of the Baltimore Sun off the sideboard and handed it to her. “Read this,” he said, flipping to a middle page and pointing out a tiny article.
“Navy Abandons Charleston Harbor.” She met his eyes in shocked amazement.
He laughed. “I hoped you hadn’t seen that yet. Keep reading.”
She tore through the article’s few lines detailing the Union navy’s failed summer campaigns and subsequent withdrawal. It certainly wasn’t a subject the North would proudly display.
“It appears Dahlgren’s finally had enough of your town.” Daniel smirked.
“Oh, Daniel, thank you for showing me this!” She threw her arms around his neck impulsively. “I feel I could float right off the floor.”
He grinned. “Come on. I’ve got something else I’m impatient to show you.” He maneuvered her chair away from the table, offering his arm, then led her through a hallway, out a pair of French doors, and into another world.
Emily gasped. “Why, it’s almost like being at Ella Wood!”
The lot wasn’t large, but the greenery was cleverly planned to disguise the city surrounding it. An eight-foot wall ran around the perimeter, completely covered in a wild growth of ivy except for one rounded door that opened in the direction of the stable. Twin witch hazel trees spread saffron branches across the back of the yard, and a brick walkway bordered with bright orange mums meandered lazily between perennial beds of sage, veronica, phlox, hostas, and a dozen other plants she could not name.
“My mother’s always had a knack for growing things. She planned it herself, though it’s expanded over the years. Now she lets our gardener do most of the work while she simply enjoys it. After all your talk of Ella Wood, I thought you’d like it, too.”
“It’s absolutely beautiful. I’ve spent so much time indoors lately, I just want to sit and take it in.”
Daniel led her to a bench set between tall plumes of switchgrass and sat beside her. “How is your brother adjusting?”
“It’s been difficult, but his spirits were up when I left him yesterday. I think he’s still so relieved to have some vision that he hasn’t let himself think about how limiting this may prove.”
Jeremiah had been released from the hospital and installed in a Washington boardinghouse secured for him by the church. The money he’d saved from his pay would cover his rent for some time, but so far he had no job prospects.
“Give it time,” Daniel advised. “These things have a way of working themselves out.”
The high walls blocked the wind, and the sun poured straight down. Emily closed her eyes and sighed, letting the warmth kiss her skin. If she had a blanket to spread on the grass, she could have dozed off in minutes.
“Have you been to the Exhibition?” Daniel asked.
“Only what’s required of me for class.”
“I’ve got something else I wanted to talk to you about.” He smiled conspiratorially and pulled a page from his pocket, smoothing it against his knee before handing it to her. “Look at this.”
The paper contained a list of names. “What is it?”
He grinned. “All the people who have scheduled photography sessions in the next few weeks because they saw your picture of the Bowditch girls.”
She blinked in amazement. “There are so many of them!”
“Twenty-two. All because of you. And the Exhibition is only half over.” He leaned forward in his eagerness. “Emily, the day you walked into my studio was providential. You’re bright, funny, and talented, and you’re definitely good for business.”
She smiled. “I appreciate that you’ve always considered my work equal to a man’s.”
“You’re better at it than any man I’ve ever hired. And I’ve never worked as well with any of them as I do with you. We enjoy a mutual respect and admiration that chimes so beautifully that I had this mad idea.” He shuffled his feet. “Maybe we should take advantage of that compatibility and turn it into something more permanent.”
A gurgle of anticipation rose in Emily’s chest. Was he offering to make her a partner?
He shifted to partially face her. “I know we’ve only worked together for three months, but I’ve thought about this long and hard, and it just feels logical.” He took a deep breath.
“Emily, I wonder if you would consider marrying me.”
24
That wasn’t the partnership Emily had imagined. She sat immobilized, shock zapping through her spine and crackling to every appendage. Marriage? To Daniel?
“You don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted to broach the idea.”
“But Jovie—” she began.
“I realize there are contingencies. That’s why I’m not expecting an answer right now. Maybe not even six months from now. I’m just asking you to consider it as a possibility.”
She could only gawp at him in amazement.
He grinned suddenly. “Come on. I want to show you what I produced during my days at the Maryland Institute. Believe me, it will prove just how good you are.”
Emily followed attentively, laughing at the right moments and carrying on as though nothing of significance had transpired between them. She stuffed away a delicious slice of pie, and at the end of the afternoon, Daniel drove her home. But all the while her thoughts whirled through her brain like papers driven before the wind. After Daniel rounded the corner, she took herself for a stroll along the waterfront to try to set them in some semblance of order.
The wharves were nearly deserted. Most of the ships lounged in the sunshine, sleeping away a lazy Sunday afternoon. Only one was being loaded. A line of teams toted the cargo even with the ship while stevedores hoisted the massive loads onboard from above. Emily could see their straining muscles from three docks away. She made a wide detour, preferring to do her thinking along a quieter stretch.
Daniel’s proposal had been…not cold, but so utterly devoid of sentiment. It truly was a business proposal, just not the sort she had anticipated. She liked him immensely. They shared a common interest, but photography was the only passion connecting them. Could she ever seriously consider marriage? Could she pledge herself to someone so perfectly content to be her second choice?
Yet, how long would she continue to look for Jovie? How much of her life did she want to dedicate to that purpose if he had, in fact, set himself against being found? Daniel was a kind, generous man. Eventually, she might very well find contentment in their easy companionship. Marriage to him offered her a safe and practical solution.
But her heart didn’t yearn for asylum. Her soul didn’t cry out for convenience. Every thought, every impulse craved Jovie alone. Their friendship had been woven into the very fabric of their existence, and for one to live without the other was like separating bone from muscle.
As Emily passed the shipping office of the busy wharf, a shouting match erupted inside.
“I won’t give him the satisfaction. If Ebersol has a problem with it, he can take it up with the authorities.”
Emily froze. She knew that voice. She’d heard it raised in anger against herself.
Leaping behind a corner of the building, she listened to the argument play out. Within minutes, one of the contenders left the building and stalked down the wharf toward the ship, a paper flapping in his hand.
With a last anxious glance down the dock, she slipped into the office and approached the clerk, noting his empty, pinned-up sleeve. “That man who just left here…” she began.
The man looked up at her with some surprise. “Mr. Gunderson?”
“May I ask what business he has with you?”
The man shrugged. “Same as everyone else. I ship his cotton.”
“Cotton,” she repeated, with dawning understanding. So this was the overland trade Thad had boasted of. He was moving Southern cotton to open ports. “I thought only Northern traders were granted cotton permits.”
“That’s right.”
Emily paused to consider the man’s empty sleeve. “Sir, do you consider yourself a patriot?”
His eyes narrowed fractionally. “I served two years in the Union navy.”
Emily glanced out the window. Thad was still engaged in conversation. “Then you may wish to know that Mr. Gunderson is from Savannah and currently residing outside Charleston. His real name is Jonathan Stanley, though he has more aliases than I have dresses. He’s an actor, a confidence man, a former blockade runner, a liar, and a thief. If you don’t believe me, contact the Savannah Theater. Or simply continue to have dealings with him and you may find out the truth for yourself.”
She had his attention now. The man studied her through clear blue eyes, then turned his thoughtful gaze out the window. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Let’s just say I learned the truth the hard way, and I don’t want others to have to repeat my experiences.”
Through the window, Emily saw Thad finish his conversation and begin striding back toward the office. She gathered her skirts and wheeled for the door.
She crossed the road and dodged into an alleyway, losing herself among the labyrinth of streets. She didn’t know if the clerk would act on her warning or if it would have any ramifications whatsoever. But unveiling Thad’s latest ruse gave her a tremendous sense of satisfaction.
Ebb Tide (Ella Wood Book 3) Page 26