by Jerri Hines
The sweat on their bodies glistened in the firelight. Their passion spent, they collapsed in each other’s arms. Since he last had her in his arms, he had been a man possessed with a need to fill the void within him. Searching for fulfillment, he had braved battles and faced death many times. None had brought him the answers he sought.
Deny the fact as much as he had, he had to acknowledge it had always been Josephine. She was the part of him that was missing. Sated, he pulled her to him and basked in the serenity of the peace he had finally found.
* * * *
Josephine stretched languidly beneath the comfort of the warm down-filled comforter. She had slept soundly for the first time since she had left Magnolia Bluff, forgetting for a moment she wasn’t alone. A hand reached out for her and pulled her close to his naked body.
She turned in his arms to find him smiling broadly. Her eyes sparkled as his mouth found hers. She whispered, “Is this real? Am I going to wake up finding all a dream?”
“If it is, then I never want to wake up,” he said. “There is so much more I wanted to say, explain and then I lost all restraint.”
Her eyes searched his. “There is nothing to forgive, Cullen. I don’t want to talk of things in the past. I’m afraid.”
“Afraid? I am never letting you go…”
“Not of you, Cullen, but the world outside those doors. I don’t think I could survive being ripped from you again. I am weak. You don’t know what I felt when you left. I had waited for a miracle that didn’t come. I pushed all my feelings aside to survive. Now you have broken through the barriers…if you don’t feel…I couldn’t…I won’t endure…” Her words faltered.
Tenderly, he kissed her.
She whispered against his lips. “I love you, Cullen. I can live with everything if I know I have you.”
“You have me,” he murmured huskily. “You always have.”
Chapter Eleven
The war raged on within a broken nation. The newspapers were filled with one battle or another, but the feeling held it would not be much longer before this horrific conflict would come to an end.
Despite the ongoing fighting, Cullen had never been more content. Over the last few weeks, Josephine had begun to heal. He had his love, his child, and his family.
Problems lingered. Josephine was fragile, so fragile, but she was making an effort and trying to find a place in his world. He had her moved into his room. He should have never had her in another room. She belonged with him.
The sight of Percival when he had come down the stairs in tears that fateful morning forced him to act. No longer listening to the advice of others, he did what he had wanted to do the moment he had taken her for his wife.
Percival had, at his father’s insistence, apologized to his mother for his behavior, although muttering under his breath that Cullen was his real father. Josephine chose to accept his effort without a rebuttal.
Madeline had been another issue in which Cullen had found an acceptable solution. Mrs. Finnegan would stay on as the nanny while Josephine cared for her daughter in the room that once was hers. Josephine’s worries eased with the easy access to her…their daughter. Wade had cared for Percival as his own; Cullen was determined to do the same for Madeline.
Elizabeth and Josephine’s friendship seemed to flourish. He wished he could feel the same about his mother’s relationship with his wife. The dealings between Josephine and his mother…there were some things that were harder to overcome.
The friction between the two hadn’t eased. Cullen doubted it would in the foreseeable future. In the spring, he would take Josephine and the children to Rosemount.
Now, his home was filled with the aroma of cookies and evergreen. Christmas was upon them and he had never known such contentment. The sight of his wife moving about the drawing room, exchanging gifts she had taken such care picking out, warmed Cullen’s heart. He had taken her out shopping after much persuasion that his money was hers.
She had asked him a million questions about the likes of everyone, even the servants. He had let her do all she wanted and enjoyed every minute of it, for she smiled and laughed. Moreover, for the first time he had picked out gifts for his son and Madeline, which made Josephine tear up at his effort.
Nothing compared with her reaction to the present he had given her in bed before they readied to go downstairs. He had picked out a locket, a gold locket with a heart encircled with vines. Inside he had placed a picture he had taken of the children, leaving the other side empty for another picture, one he wanted with her, engraving the back with Yours forever, Cullen.
While she stood in the mirror and admired her gift, he pulled out a small box. Looking at him oddly, she opened it and gasped at the sight. He had hunted down the emerald wedding ring Wade had given her…that had been stolen from her. An impossible task, but he had been determined. It had cost him both favors and money, but he had been successful. Overwhelmed, she wept happy tears.
Gone was any lingering jealousy he held toward Wade. In a way, the ring signified a healing. Now, he thought of the Wade he had known in his youth without the anger and rage that the war had wedged between them.
Cullen watched Madeline toddle over to Josephine with her stuffed bear. Josephine hugged her tight and sent her over to her Aunt Elizabeth, who laughed joyfully. Percival played with his soldiers in the floor. His parents sat on the sofa, looking happier than he had seen them in a long time. Cullen finished his drink and sat down to play with his son.
* * * *
In late January, news of the war filtered back to Cullen, not unexpectedly, but he tried to keep most from Josephine. General Sherman had made his move from Atlanta through South Carolina, destroying almost everything in his path, a path that diverted from Magnolia Bluff.
Devastation lay throughout the South with the trail that Sherman left. It was a calculated strategy to strangle the life out of the South, a harsh reality to the cursed war. The stubborn, prideful Southerners had steadfastly refused to contemplate surrendering. The Rebs had fought for over three years without supplies, ammunition, food, guns… The war should have been long over, but someone forgot to tell the Rebs.
Cullen understood, not at the beginning, but during his time with Farragut. The Union had been lukewarm in its attempt at the beginning of the war, feeling torn in fighting their own. The South had never had that issue. The Rebels felt they were fighting for their way of life—their families. They fought with what was most dangerous—their heart, a dangerous opponent.
He understood it had come only when Lincoln had taken the stance that the war needed to end and instructed Grant and Sherman to have the South feel the full wrath of the North. Shouldn’t the responsibility of all actions of this bloody godforsaken war hold consequences? The only way to conqueror the South’s undying spirit was to strangle their heart and cut it out.
Cullen had never doubted the stance he had taken. He believed fervently in the Union and believed just as strongly that they were in the right in the sight of God. The Union needed to be preserved. But unlike most he fought beside, he loved the land he battled. Despite everything, he loved Charleston, the people and his family.
He had long ago given up on pretending to have all the answers. Those days had passed with each battle and the good men lost. He sighed as he looked at the telegram in his hand. He had to make a trip to Washington.
Looking back over his shoulder, he watched his wife donning her new apparel for their night out at the theater. She had finally agreed to go out socially. He wanted this night to be perfect.
Josephine looked stunning in the blue silk faille evening gown, worn off the shoulder with a bodice cut low across her full bosom. Abundantly decorated with white silk braid and blue ribbon, the exquisite dress had a row of decorative bead drops. The hem was edged with silk ribbon pleated with handmade lace.
She peered over her shoulder, lightly touching the string of pearls he had given her. She smiled. My God, she looked lovely! His mind ea
sily pictured her wearing nothing but those pearls. Tonight, he would make his fantasy a reality.
He tucked the letters into his desk drawers. The news could wait. In truth, he doubted he would even mention the letter that arrived from Andrew with news of Magnolia Bluff. Cullen saw no reason to share the correspondence with his wife and spoil her evening. The news would only sadden her.
Cullen,
Magnolia Bluff has survived. Though, I am over laden with guilt, not only over the way I have kept Magnolia Bluff from being burnt to the ground, but Josephine. I had no choice, but that knowledge has not eased my conscience. The papers have painted Jo a Jezebel with her marriage to you, believing she has betrayed Wade. I take solace in the fact that Magnolia Bluff and the family has endured. I am committed to overseeing Magnolia Bluff and the estate until Percival is old enough to take over his inheritance. Mother misses the children desperately. She doesn’t understand why Josephine left. Again, it bothers me that Jo can’t defend herself. Mother doesn’t comprehend the danger Jo would have been in had she stayed, the danger the family would have had to face. As to your concerns about Harry Lee—I understand he died not long ago in a Northern prison camp, Fort Delaware, dubbed the Fort Delaware Death Pen. You might be able to confirm the information since it is the Union which held him. As always, I will keep you informed to the best of my ability. Andrew
Tonight, though, he refused to think of anything except his lovely wife. The theater awaited. At first, Mother had suggested the Arch Street Theater, but he had immediately rejected that theater when he realized what was playing—The Southern Rebellion by Land and Sea. Instead, he chose The Black Creek at the Walnut Street Theater. To his joy, Josephine had allowed him to invite the Mitchells along and had even seemed quite eager to include them.
He held up her pelisse of vivid black velvet with a matching fur collar and placed it around her shoulders. She turned to adjust her hat, a large brim black velvet hat drooped fashionably front and back. A red-dyed ostrich plume ran over the top and trailed down the nape of her neck. He snuck under the brim and stole a kiss before they exited out of their room.
“Later, my darling,” he promised.
“I shall be thinking of it all night.” She rewarded him with a brilliant smile. She took a step forward and then halted. “Do I have time for one more…?”
“No, my dear. They won’t sleep if you keep checking on them. The children are being well looked after,” he assured her. “Come. We have a delightful evening in front of us.”
“We do, don’t we?” She intertwined her arm in his. “Let us go. We don’t want to be late.”
****
The carriage tracked through the newly fallen snow until it pulled to a stop in front of an elongated brick building with high arched windows with a sign which proclaimed it Walnut Street Theater. Gas-lit lamps lit up the entrance and patrons bustled around the grille of the ticket booth. A poster hung outside the door: The Black Creek starring Edwin Booth.
Cullen had watched his wife in conversation with Diana Mitchell with deep satisfaction. The gist of their discussion centered on the most effective manner of discipline for young boys. Diana and Gavin’s young son was only a year older than Percival. The semblance of normalcy appeared on the horizon.
His arm rounded Josephine as they walked up the steps of the theater. As they entered into the lobby of the magnificent theater, she tensed, aware of the curious eyes upon her. His arm tightened about her waist.
Jo gazed up at him. Her bright eyes reflected her resolve to enjoy her evening. She was prepared and readied to face the world with him by her side. Smiling down at her, he led her into the auditorium.
****
Josephine had to admit she was enjoying herself greatly. After everything she endured when she left Magnolia Bluff, she would have never believed she would be happy again. He loved her and she…well, she realized she had never stopped loving him.
In the far recesses of her heart, guilt lived. What right did she have to happiness in the midst of such a horrible war? Wade was dead; the South had been devastated. Jo remembered what Wade had told her—live one day at a time. She would do so.
The noisy smoke-filled auditorium quieted when the usher announced the play would begin. Cullen squeezed her hand gently in assurance as boys carried long poles down the aisles to adjust the gaslights. The footlight candles shimmered on the stage as the piano player began to play. For the next hour, she became enjoyably immersed in the play.
When the lights came on for intermission, Jo worried briefly that Cullen might feel the need to introduce her to his acquaintances. But when they entered the lobby, he asked only if the women would like refreshments.
Josephine watched Cullen engrossed in conversation with Gavin.
Touching Jo’s arm, Diana leaned over to her. “I believe they like this time to talk themselves. If you ask me, men gossip more than we do, except they call it discussions.”
Laughing lightly, Jo suddenly halted. She saw Kathleen, her former-sister-in-law, sweep down the stairs on the arm of a distinctively commanding figure of a man, an army colonel from the bars on his collar.
Kathleen cast her gaze toward Jo’s direction. Jo cringed when Kathleen advanced upon her with eyes narrowed. Tilting her head to her escort, Kathleen whispered to him. He released her arm and took a step back.
“Are you well?” Diana asked.
Diana’s words seemed to have resonated from far away. Jo made no response. All her attention lay upon the woman who came toward her, the woman she had hoped never to see again.
The years had been kind to Kathleen. Dressed in an exquisitely coiffed taffeta gown, her light brown curls were swept upward in a fashionable trend. She had gained a mature, womanly allure.
“Well, Josephine, you seem to have done well for yourself,” Kathleen sneered, stiffly smiling. “Come…come now. Don’t be shy around me. Are we not family?”
“Once, long ago. You know well enough that you are not an acquaintance I wanted to renew.” Jo gave the woman a bland smile. “Now, if you will excuse me.”
Kathleen stepped in front of her to block Jo’s way. “Josephine, I can’t let you go so quickly. It’s been years, although if the truth be known, I remember all as if it were yesterday.”
“I, too, have those same memories.” Jo’s eyebrows arched in amazement of Kathleen’s brazen manners.
“Oh, it’s no secret of our connection here in Philadelphia, if you are wondering. There are no secrets between us. Why, I heard a nasty rumor that Cullen rescued you from the depths of... oh, what did I hear...prison.” Her voice carried a soft, husky quality within it as she continued. “We will have to get together for tea. I have always been fascinated with the tales I have heard about prison life. Tell me, Josephine, how did you survive? How many favors did you extend to be so well looked after?”
Jo’s cheeks grew hot with indignation. Rage boiled within her. Only the knowledge that Kathleen was baiting her kept her composed.
“Let’s go find the men, Josephine,” Diana kindly suggested. “They must be missing us…”
Kathleen reached out and grasped Josephine’s arm. “Oh, my dear, don’t be in such a hurry. We are no longer in strict and stuffy Charleston where I was the outsider. No, you are here in Philadelphia. Now you are the outsider. The good people of this city will never forgive Cullen for marrying a Southern heathen. They will never accept you.”
“Are you saying that I need to apologize for being Southern? I will never do so. I love my home, but my duty lies beside my husband. I want nothing more than for all the troops on both sides to return home safely. There has been too much death.” Josephine spoke in a tone much stronger than she physically felt. “I have always tried to live my life honorably and with character. That is how during these difficult times I survived. How do you?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Is it not? Why can I not question you and your integrity? You are a coward for attacking me in such
a manner.”
Kathleen shrugged indolently. “Words are what I have found most Southerners hide behind. And now you hide behind your husband. I wonder how your fellow Southerners feel about your betrayal. You talk of honor and character yet display none of which you speak.”
Exasperated, Jo fought the urge to scream at her. Instead, she uttered in a low, forceful voice, “You know nothing of me.”
“I know enough.” Kathleen smirked. “And so will the rest of Philadelphia soon enough.”
“It is sad, Kathleen. I feel nothing for you except repugnance. It is beyond my comprehension how one can coldheartedly abandon their child. You never once answered any of my letters I sent about your darling little girl. Never once inquired of her health or well-being.” Jo choked back her emotions. “She died in my arms…your beautiful little girl. I paid to have a letter sent urgently to you. I never heard back. That is what I find unforgivable. Fannie was so small, so innocent. What could she have ever done to harden your heart so? No, others may question me, but not you.”
Kathleen’s eyes narrowed with hatred. “This is far from over, Josephine. It won’t be long until Cullen realizes the enormous mistake he has made. Not long at all…”
“You are sadly mistaken, Kathleen.”
Jo turned to see that Cullen had walked up behind her. His jaw was set; his brow furrowed. He snarled, “Leave my wife alone from your barbs or you will sorely regret it.”
“Tsk...tsk…tsk, Cullen. You should know I don’t take threats kindly,” Kathleen warned crisply and took a step back with a smile, although it held little humor in it. “We’ll see who regrets what.”
She said nothing else, but turned back to her escort. The next minute, the two exited the theater. The intermission was long over. One of the ushers announced the doors would be closed, for the play was about to begin.
“Come. We’ll go home.” Cullen’s arm went protectively around her.