“Not anymore, but for the last—”
She put a finger to his lips. “No. Please. My nightmares are real enough already.” She couldn’t hear this yet. “It’s over.”
He pulled her back against his chest and wrapped her up tightly, his beard catching the strands of her hair. “You’re right. We’ll begin anew in Baltimore.”
She closed her eyes and sighed with more happiness than one heart could hold. “I would have followed you anywhere in the world, Jovie Cutler.”
His hand slid down her arm, across her belly, and over the swell of her hip. “How about to the moon?”
She shivered at his touch, at the deep thrill of blending heart, soul, and body. Rolling to meet him, her lips found his. She smiled against his whiskers.
“Take me there.”
***
The next weeks were the happiest of Emily’s life. Jovie found a job at a mercantile, and she continued working in the hotel for their reduced rent. The arrangement benefitted everyone, though there were days Emily felt as if her new marriage sat center stage before a very large audience.
On a particularly beautiful Sunday afternoon, they were joined after services by Lizzie, Ketch, and Malachi for a hearty noon meal. When Lizzie arrived, she went straight to the kitchen where Emily and Shannon were both helping Julia with final preparations. She and Emily embraced with baby Eden held between them, then Lizzie smirked. “So?” It was the first they’d spoken since the wedding.
Emily felt her cheeks grow warm. Before she could answer, Julia waved them gruffly toward the back door. “Go on, you two. Dis kitchen be no place fo’ a conversation.” But Emily caught her sly wink as they went out the door.
Emily laughed at the knowing gleam in Lizzie’s eye when they stood facing each other in the stable yard. “It’s wonderful, Lizzie. I’m happier than I have any right to be.”
Lizzie smiled. “You deserve it.”
“Let me see this little one,” Emily said, taking Eden from her mother’s arms. At three months, the child was all rolls and gurgles. “She’s darling. Is it different, having a girl?”
Lizzie chuckled. “I ain’t been watered on so often.”
Emily gently bounced the baby, rubbing a finger along silky smooth cheeks. Eden’s weight fit just right in the crook of her arm, and those brown eyes watched her solemnly.
“You know you could have one o’ dese soon,” Lizzie teased.
Emily just nuzzled the baby against her cheek. “Oh, hush,” she scolded. But for the first time, the idea held some appeal.
Isaac called to them from the French doors. “Dinner’s on the table!”
The meal was a boisterous affair, with food laid out on the sideboard so Julia could sit down and join them. Emily shared a table with Jovie, Ketch and Lizzie, and Malachi and Julia. She knew her husband still found it odd to eat with Negroes, but she was proud of his efforts. As small talk about the weather, the morning services, and the birth Malachi had attended the night before circled around the table, Jovie was far more courteous than she had been during her first trip North.
“Julia, this turkey is simply divine!” Emily exclaimed, dipping a bite in mashed potatoes and chewing ecstatically.
“Thank you, chil’. I know it be one o’ yo’ favorites. An’ you missed it at Christmas.”
Emily glanced uneasily at her husband. “Yes, I remember.”
Jovie was buttering a slice of bread and failed to notice. “Were you ill?”
“In a manner of speaking. I—uh—sprained my ankle.”
“That shouldn’t have hurt your appetite.”
“Emily, you didn’t tell him?” Malachi asked.
Emily widened her eyes at him significantly. The story wasn’t flattering. But it was already too late. Jovie looked curiously from one to the other. “Tell me what?”
Emily speared another piece of turkey. “It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing,” Malachi insisted.
“It was,” she repeated more forcefully.
“Your husband needs to know.”
She and Malachi engaged in a visual contest of wills until Jovie set down his fork. “Will someone please explain to me what happened over Christmas?”
His question caught Isaac’s attention at the next table. When Emily maintained her stony silence, he cleared his throat. “One of our guests tried to abduct Emily while she was home alone. We believe he was sent by Thaddeus Black.”
Jovie glanced at her sharply. “He’s still bothering you?”
“We don’t know that it was him,” she said morosely. Now she’d never be able to get out of the hotel.
“Emily was under the effects of laudanum at the time. But Mr. Black does have some rather compelling arguments against her.” Isaac smiled thinly.
Jovie looked at her expectantly.
Emily sighed. “I stole one of his Negro women.”
He raised his eyebrows in disapproval. It was a violation of one of the South’s cardinal laws.
“It was Sarah. Thad is the one who purchased Fairview when your parents left.”
A muscle jumped in Jovie’s jaw. His eyes turned hard and steely. “Please continue.”
“He caught us—speaking together one night. She took a beating because of me. I was afraid he’d hurt her worse, so I brought her to Port Royal.”
“They were nearly caught,” Isaac added. “He shot Emily in the shoulder.”
“He what?”
Emily flinched at the wild fury in his eyes. The others at her table focused studiously on their meals.
“Emily recovered in the Port Royal hospital,” Isaac explained. “Then she had an official letter written spreading the rumor of her death. But we suspect Mr. Black may have gotten wind of her recovery when she turned him in for trading cotton illegally.”
Jovie turned furious, disbelieving eyes on his wife. “You were going to keep all this from me?”
“It happened months ago, Jovie. And there’s been no hint of trouble since Christmas.” Emily threw her napkin down on the table in disgust. “How could there be? I never leave the hotel.”
“Where is the man who tried to abduct her?” Jovie asked in a frighteningly cold voice.
“Gone,” Isaac answered. “Allegations brought against him by a Negro and a woman—especially a woman who’d been drugged—weren’t enough to hold him.”
“It won’t make any difference when we return to Baltimore.” Emily sent a stinging glance in her husband’s direction. “Finding someone in the city is a lot harder than you’d think.”
“I’d still advise caution when you go,” Isaac finished.
The remainder of the meal was strained. The others tried to force a conversation while Jovie brooded and Emily fumed, forking her turkey into tiny pieces. She escaped to the garden at the first opportunity.
That’s where Malachi found her.
He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. “I’m sorry if you’re upset, Emily, but Jovie needed to understand what happened.”
She put a hand to her forehead. “I knew he’d react like this.” She’d seen his stiff, angry silence before, when she and Sophia had sneaked out to Charleston. “It makes me feel like a naughty child, and I didn’t even do anything wrong.”
“He’s worried.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can. But you don’t have to anymore.”
When she didn’t respond, he took a few steps closer. “I understand you want to prove that you’re capable and independent. Jovie already knows that. It’s likely part of what attracted him to you. But allowing him to care for you doesn’t diminish you in any way.”
Emily breathed out a sigh of frustration. “I’ve just felt so closed in lately, with too many people and no chance to get away. I guess I didn’t want Jovie to start hedging me in, as well.”
“Do you think that’s what he’s doing?”
“Of course not.” Jovie was the one who’d encouraged her to spread her w
ings.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Then let him fuss over you, Emily. It just means he loves you.”
It would be easier in Baltimore. They’d rent their own place and settle into a new kind of normal. She could endure a few more weeks. Grudgingly, she nodded.
Malachi smiled. “I like him. I can see he’s good for you.”
“He’s stubborn,” she grumbled.
Malachi’s smile widened.
“What?”
Malachi laughed. “I’ll admit, he does have a few Southern edges. But I know someone else who suffered from those.”
“And I know someone accomplished at rubbing them off.” She felt her own lip beginning to twitch. “Malachi, Jovie has an interest in chemistry. Maybe you could…teach him a few things while we’re here.”
“Anytime.”
He winked, and she knew he caught her meaning. Jovie would be learning far more than science during their stay in Detroit.
***
Even as Emily learned to adapt to her marriage, as she and Jovie began preparing for their departure, the world changed with the abruptness of cannon fire. The news was shouted in the streets and confirmed in the slap of a newspaper across the dining room table—General Lee had surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia. Richmond had fallen. The government was in exile. The Confederacy was no more.
The swiftness of it all left Emily breathless.
That evening, as church bells proclaimed their joy across the wildly celebrating city, Emily sat on the front porch staring into a darkening sky. The stars were always the same—never swayed by human events unfolding within their sight. She searched out Polaris. Its fixed position could point the way to anyone who knew how to follow it. She wished for that kind of guidance now. For even as relief broke the strain of four long years, she was bowed by immeasurable sadness. Her homeland lay in shambles, and so few remained to rebuild it.
Not a week later, before anyone could process the ramifications of peace, those same bells tolled a dirge for the man most capable of reuniting the country. Emily had no great love for the president of the Northern states, but like the North Star, he’d been the one stable figure about whom all others had turned. Now that mooring was gone. The country had been set adrift. To her sadness, Emily added cautious trepidation. The future had become unpredictable.
The same night as the tragic announcement, Emily sat deep in discussion with Jovie before the lobby fireplace. The school term began in three weeks. How would the sudden turn of events affect their plans? And how was it possible that Mr. Booth—the gifted performer who’d once captivated them so completely—could have murdered Mr. Lincoln in cold blood? The idea was staggering.
They were interrupted by Uncle Isaac, who swung through his office door with a letter in hand. Grave eyes locked with Emily’s. He dropped the envelope in her lap. “This came for you today. I received one, as well.” He turned away to stare at the flames. “It’s postmarked February.”
Emily exchanged puzzled glances with Jovie. “Who’s it from?” he asked.
She glanced at the return address and her heart crawled into her throat. “Zeke.”
Tearing it open, she removed a single page and read it aloud:
Dear Emily,
I’m sorry I must be the bearer of tragic news. I can’t quite fathom it yet myself. Last night, Ella Wood burned to the ground. Your father and Deena—
Her voice broke. The letter dropped from stiff fingers. Turning stricken eyes on her husband, she finished in a whisper, “Your father and Deena are dead.”
29
Charleston lay in ruins. Nearly two years of continual bombardment had decimated the southern half of the city, destroying anything the Great Fire had left in place. As the jagged skyline steamed into view, Emily couldn’t stomach the sight. She averted her eyes, choosing instead to watch the seabirds wheeling over the wild shoreline toward Mt. Pleasant.
The ground bucked and pitched as they stepped ashore. They’d encountered heavy seas just outside New York. Emily hadn’t slept well for a week. Now her legs seemed to have forgotten how to navigate level ground. While Jovie went to ask about transportation at the shipping office, she sank onto a mounting block and happily waited for the ground to stop shifting.
She could feel the Union presence everywhere. She’d known to expect it, but seeing Yankee soldiers patrolling her streets and occupying familiar homes still roused her indignation. In the few minutes she waited, she counted fourteen blue uniforms. Relatively few compared to the thousands she’d mingled with in Port Royal, but encountering them here, on her home territory, was far more galling.
“There is no railroad,” Jovie said when he returned. “The lines are wrapped around tree trunks all the way to Columbia. And the only animals left in the city belong to the army. We’ll have to walk.”
It was twenty miles to Ella Wood. After their turbulent voyage, the thought of hiking every step of it made her groan aloud. But it was Jovie she was worried about. “On crutches?”
“We don’t have much choice. He also said much of the upper city burned after evacuation. We’ll have to pass through it. I just want you to be prepared.”
Emily winced and nodded. “I’m ready.”
When Zeke’s letter arrived, Emily had wanted to leave for home immediately. Jovie flatly refused to escort her through the war zone with its devastation and lawless marauders. Instead, he’d waited until the blockade was lifted and passenger services resumed. He’d hesitated to go at all, unwilling to risk an encounter with Thad, but even Uncle Isaac agreed they had to do what they could for Marie. So their plans to return to Baltimore were postponed, and Emily spent the next twelve weeks in a torturous state of helplessness.
Now she felt the first tremors of trepidation. If the city affected her so strongly, what would she do at the sight of Ella Wood?
They left their trunks at the shipping office, promising to come back for them later, and began walking. Jovie carried a haversack slung over one shoulder; she toted her worn valise. As they passed out of the dockside area, Emily noticed a difference in the Negro population. Gone were the copper badges marking slaves for hire. No longer did they carry paper passes giving them permission to be on the street. They walked with a different bearing, with a lighter step. On one occasion, she watched an elderly Negro man bow to a passing corporal with a beaming smile. At last Charleston was freed from the yoke of slavery, but oh, how she wished she could turn back the clock and find a better way to accomplish it!
As they passed through the destruction, Emily looked to neither the right nor the left, concentrating instead on the methodical rhythm of Jovie’s stride. They traveled through the heat of the July afternoon, through the Neck, into the countryside, taking short breaks and covering nearly ten miles before Jovie halted for the night. The only other travelers they’d seen were a pair of mounted Union patrols.
Emily dropped beside her husband in a state of exhaustion. She’d taken his haversack early on, and as the sun sloped lower in the sky, each step had grown more weighted. Obviously, her confinement in the city had robbed her of endurance. But if Jovie could do it on one leg, she would bite her tongue and persevere.
Jovie sprawled beside a small stream and thrust his face into the water. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, and as he tossed the crutches aside, she saw that painful blisters had formed between his thumbs and forefingers. “Let me see your hands,” she said when he’d drunk his fill.
“They’re fine.” He flopped back in the grass, water dropping off his whiskers.
“They’re not fine.” She grasped one and gently prised it open. The skin of his palm had been worn raw, but the blisters were worse. “I’m going to look for some plantain to put on these. I’ll be right back.”
Her muscles protested as she pushed herself to her feet and started kicking through the weeds at the side of the road. The plant grew abundantly in the lowlands, and she soon returned with an armful. She crushed a few of the broad leav
es and applied them directly to the affected areas, securing them with strips torn from her petticoat.
“Better?”
He nodded. “It helps. Can you do anything with these?”
He began fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. As he pulled it off, she saw the bloody smears in his armpits. “Oh, Jovie.”
She set to work immediately, washing and bandaging as best she could.
“How’d you know to use that plant?” he asked, pulling his shirt tentatively over his injuries.
“When I’d skin my knees as a child, Deena used to—” She swallowed and started again. “Deena taught me.”
Weariness engulfed her. She lay down beside him, resting her head on his chest. Together they watched the light fade into an artist’s palette cut through with bold slashes of cloud.
“Are you cold?” Jovie asked.
She shook her head. “I’m too tired to be cold. I think I’m too tired to eat.”
“That’s probably just as well. All we have is the loaf I took from the breakfast table this morning.”
“I’ll split it with you in the morning.”
She closed her eyes and must have dozed because the clop of hooves awakened her. She couldn’t have slept long; the moon had only just risen.
Beside her, Emily heard the careful click of a hammer. She stirred. “You bought a gun?”
“I took it off the Yankee at Gettysburg. I just haven’t had to use it. Yet.”
She could hear the steel in his voice and knew what he was thinking. A shiver ran through her, and this time she was glad of Jovie’s protection. But Thad only traveled on horseback. This sounded like the slow rumble of a wagon—traveling the same direction they were.
She scrambled out to the road.
“Emily, come back—” Jovie hissed, but she ignored him. He wasn’t walking a mile farther than he needed to.
“Excuse me!” she called. “May we hitch a ride?”
“Who’s there?”
“Just a woman and a returning veteran.”
Ebb Tide (Ella Wood Book 3) Page 31