A Heartbeat Away: Quilts of Love Series

by S. Dionne Moore

  “Do you love me, Beth?”

  She touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip, frozen with fear. The answer sprang to her lips. So simple, but committing it to a single word weighed her with terror. She tugged her hand away and he released it. “I must go. Mother needs me. They are filling more wagons this morning.”

  She avoided looking into his face. There would be hurt there, but it would fade, just as her hurt had faded over Riley’s rejection.

  When she limped into the kitchen, her mother was alone working dough, perspiration beading along her forehead in the heat of the morning. Already she had done so much work. “What do you need me to do?”

  Anya turned to her and smudged a hand over her cheek. “You could take over the kneading.” She rubbed a hand over her shoulder and Beth knew her shoulder was stiffening up. They’d worked harder in the last few days and even their provisions were showing the sacrifice. But everyone was contributing and her parents would not do less. They were good-hearted people. Kind. Loving.

  “Have you finished sewing your blocks?” Anya asked.

  “I’m too tired to work on it in the evenings, and it seems such a selfish thing to indulge in something I enjoy doing when the soldiers need relief.” Beth tried a smile. “No matter how hard I try, I fear I’ll never forget how terrible it was.”

  Anya’s flurry of activity stilled. She wiped her hand and turned, opening her arms. Beth went into them.

  “You are whole and well, my daughter. God is in control even when it feels like the earth is shaking beneath us. You have begun to trust again. Don’t let your trust be shaken because of things you cannot change.”

  She could not change the war, her limp, Leo’s death, but, oh, how she wanted to. Yet through all of those circumstances Joe had come to her. If she’d married Riley, she would not have gone to be a nurse and met Joe.

  Anya pulled back and studied her close. “How is your head this morning?”

  “Fine.”

  “And your leg?”

  “Stiff. Sore.”

  “Jim said Joe saw you, that you were upset by it.”

  She released a sigh and new tears burned her throat.

  “He must care for you very much.”

  “Mother, please.”

  “Beth.” Her mother’s voice was firm and brooked no denial. “You cannot let Riley’s rejection, Leo’s death, your injury, rule your future.”

  She stiffened. “I have accepted God’s hope.”

  “His hope for others, but for yourself?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Anya wiped her hands down the skirt of her apron. “God’s hope is not just for eternity, but for here on Earth. For you and for me. Leo was granted the ultimate hope. Riley received his when he married Ava. But you have taken Leo’s death and your injury more as a punishment than a path.

  “We have watched you, and I committed to being silent on the matter, content to let God show you His will. But when I started seeing you drift farther and farther away I knew you had hardened your heart.” She touched Beth’s cheek. “You are so beautiful, yet you have allowed every bit of hope to be stolen from you for happiness here on Earth. Joe loves you.”

  She gasped.

  “I have seen it in the way he watches you or perks up whenever your name is mentioned.”

  “But he’s leaving.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “Then learn your heart but don’t turn away from the hope.”

  Anya took a step back and pushed the trough of dough toward her. “If you’ll finish this batch, Pearl should be back in time to do the next one. Perhaps you and Joe could spend some time talking.”

  She caught the little glance her mother shot her way and felt a lightening in her step as she set the trough on the table and sat down to work the dough. A sudden longing gripped her to work on the blocks, to see the richness of the colors of the triangles that led to that center point. Riley had moved on. Leo was content in heaven. She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the room penetrate the cold places of her heart as she worked the dough over and over. God was working her over just as she worked the dough, and the end result—that golden loaf of bread—would bring such comfort and nourishment to all who partook.

  When Pearl and two neighbor ladies arrived in a wagon, she shared a glance with her mother, took off her apron, and slipped up the stairs. She reached the landing and rubbed her protesting leg just as the women swirled in on a stream of muted chatter and a rush of warm air.

  She hesitated at Joe’s door but continued down the hall. The blocks were spread on her bed, the bottom two rows almost complete, sewn as well as she could manage. Four more blocks remained to be attached, then the border. She drew her chair close to the window amazed at the thought that her mother thought Joe needed her. Loved her. She traced the outline of the bright golden square and smiled. She needed him too.

  29

  You have a plan to get me across?”

  “We are close to the Potomac. It is deeper here, but there are ways.”

  Through the window and the thick leaves of sycamore and an occasional evergreen, he’d seen the sparkle of the river. From the house, the land sloped steeply down to the river in the distance. If he listened carefully, he could hear the water splashing over submerged rocks.

  He didn’t doubt Jim. Not at all. Only himself and his strength. If he overestimated what he was capable of and the current was more than he could handle. He shuddered.

  “You will be safe. We will make sure of that for Miss Beth’s sake.”

  He grinned. “For hers, but not for mine?”

  “You are a Rebel.” But Jim’s shrug and shrewd smile showed how he teased.

  “That makes me feel safe.”

  “We can always take you back into Sharpsburg,” Jim said with verve.

  Despite the lighthearted banter, he could not help but think of the fate of those men, his friends, left in the town now overrun with Union toops. God’s mercy on him seemed unfair when he thought of what they would suffer. Yet he could not question God. He used different methods for different people, and Joe still had quite a few of his own obstacles to clear before he could leave, let alone come back.

  He braced his leg against the crutch and closed his eyes against the sunshine. And how could he leave Beth?

  “Walk back to me. Then we work on squeezing the ball.”

  Joe grimaced at the man. “I’ve already made three trips over there.”

  “You want to walk with Miss Beth?”

  He did. They’d already talked of walking in the semidarkness, Jim nearby to help should he run into trouble and to keep an eye out for Union pickets patrolling the Potomac. All that the black man, that the family had done to keep him safe and well, amazed him. He froze up inside thinking about Beth. Leaving her would be hard, but he could never truly commit unless he left to set things straight.

  The backs of his legs touched the mattress and he lowered himself to the soft comfort with a muffled groan as a knock came on the door. Jim opened it to a smiling Beth. She swept in, a dark bundle under her arm. Her eyes wavered between Joe and Jim, settling on Joe. She neither smiled nor frowned, but the sight of her choked his breath. “How could you, for one minute, think yourself inferior because of your leg?” His heart broke for her and for the self-deception that would work such a terrible trick in her mind.

  He leaned forward and rose, ignored the jelly feel of his legs and used the crutch to close the distance between them. Jim scooted out the door, leaving the door open, as Beth’s hand settled on his arm. “Maybe you should sit down. You look pale.”

  It took very little for him to see through her charade. “You never answered my question.”

  Her mouth opened. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I want to come back to you. But I have to do it the right way. For my conscience. For Ben.”

  “What if you don’t find out what happen
ed to him?” She stared at the buttons on his shirt.

  “Then I will rest in the knowledge that I tried.” He let the silence grow. “Who hurt you, Beth? Your injury doesn’t bother me.”

  “You’ve not seen me walk. I . . .”

  He touched her jaw, raised her chin. “But I have. I still love you.”

  She lowered her eyes and tried to turn her face away but he kept gentle hold on her chin.

  “If you don’t love me, Bethie, then I’m going to come back and make you love me. You can’t get rid of me so easily.”

  He meant it. Yet, she’d seen sincerity before, in Riley’s eyes, and it had morphed into something else entirely when he had realized her leg would never heal.

  Joe released her chin and took a wobbly step backward. He turned, using the crutch in an awkward pivot that nearly sent him to the floor. “I’ll never get used to using this thing.”

  “It will only be for a while.”

  He was letting the subject drop and she felt grateful that he did not press her for an answer. Still, she could not deny the warmth that spilled through her at hearing those three words, at his assurance that she would be enough for him despite her leg.

  “What do you have there?”

  It took her a minute to understand what he meant. His amused nod toward the bundle beneath her arm made her laugh. She shook out the blocks, careful to set aside the last three that needed to be sewn. He fingered the material.

  “When we’re married, I want this for our room.”

  Her face went hot. She dared to glance at him and her face flushed even hotter when she caught his mischievous grin.

  “You’re lovely when you blush.”

  “Joe . . . this isn’t appropriate.”

  The bed squeaked as he shifted forward. “You’re right. We’ll save it for another time.”

  Despite herself, a wave of pleasure rolled through her at the thought that he could even find her attractive enough to make such an intimate tease.

  Joe coaxed several blushes from Beth during their evening walks. Jim always lingered nearby. On the fourth night, Joe went without the crutch, not minding in the least when Beth stayed extra close, her anxious expression all concern for him.

  Green eyes stared into his. “Have I told you how beautiful you are today?”

  The hot blush had her drawing back, averting her face, and he chuckled as they continued toward the edge of the thick woods. His goal to increase his distance every day had been measured by both Jim and Beth. Though meeting the goals brought pleasure, it also dampened his spirits. For each day that slipped past meant he was closer to the time he would need to leave.

  Beth brushed against his shoulder with each step of her left leg and he savored both her nearness and the reminder of her imperfection. Meredith’s perfection sickened him. Her superficial airs and shallow personality, but every moment with Beth only deepened his love and admiration for the slight woman. He placed his hand over her cool fingers. In the next step, she jarred and twisted away from him. She was falling but he caught her around the waist and shifted her weight to him.

  She choked out a gasp.

  “Are you hurt? What happened.”

  “I—there was a hole.”

  He steadied her on her feet as she leaned to massage her knee. “We should head back.”

  She didn’t respond. Didn’t look at him.

  “Beth?” Her sniff was his first clue. She wiped at her face and he pulled her close and cradled her head against him. “Bethie, don’t cry.”

  Her tears were not a torrent, but a trickle. When he pulled back, she still would not meet his eyes.

  “Look at me.” He tried to lift her chin but she pulled away.

  “This is what it’s like. I’m never ever the graceful woman that can—”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “Stop it, Bethie. Stop it. This coming from a woman holding the dead arm of a soldier.”

  “It moves now. It’s stronger.”

  “But it’s not quite right. What do I have to do to convince you that your injury doesn’t matter to me? It’s you I love. The woman caught inside a beautiful shell with a leg that doesn’t work quite as well as it did because she sacrificed herself while trying to help another.”

  “Riley stopped loving me.”

  “Then he’s a fool. A shallow fool and I’ll tell him to his face.”

  Her head tilted and her eyes searched his, great wells of water filling her eyes. She blinked and tears spilled down her cheeks. He smudged them away with his thumbs, tilted her head back. “No more of that. It hurts me to hear you think less of yourself.”

  Gazing into his eyes, seeing the tenseness of his expression, hearing his words, Beth knew she had to stop the fear. To believe herself lovable and Joe capable of loving her. As much as she prayed for God to help her, the moment of truth had come. She could choose to take another step toward the hope, or retreat to the darkness. “I’m sorry.”

  He crushed her in a hug that left her breathless, yet cherished. She squeezed out a laugh and elbowed him away. “Keep walking, soldier. You haven’t gone the whole way yet.”

  “Only if you’ll go with me.”

  He tried to hold out his right arm. She rested her hand on his, feeling the thinness of the limb. Muscle had developed, but she knew Joe’s frustration stemmed from the slowness with which his muscles responded.

  “Now, tell me how many children you’d like to have.”

  Heat surged into her cheeks. “Joseph Madison!”

  He put on an innocent expression that melted into something else entirely. He stopped her, drew her close. “If only you could see the woman I see.”

  Her heart slammed hard, and she wondered if he knew how much his words meant. How she would hang on to them in the days ahead of inevitable loneliness. She lifted her hands to his neck, touched the hair that skimmed the collar of his shirt, lifted on her toes to press her lips against his cheek. “Thank you.”

  His arm snaked around her back. “I’d rather hear something else.”

  She put her lips against his ear. “I love you, Joe.”

  30

  Joe wanted to hang on to every minute of every day that he could spend with Beth. Watching her joy over his recovery made him reluctant to leave. A dozen times he had made up his mind to stay, but he would take out that stiff piece of paper and the cigar he was sure Ben had left in his haversack, and he knew he needed to at least try and make sense of Ben’s actions and sudden death. Besides, he could not desert. Could not live his life running. Sometimes he caught Beth with the same heart-twisting sadness in her eyes that he felt as each evening’s good-night marked another day’s passing.

  Jedidiah’s return came three weeks after the Union took over Sharpsburg. Anya’s sudden appearance in the open doorway of Joe’s room, her mouth pinched with anxiousness, said more than the booming voice of Beth’s father greeting someone.

  “I thought I should warn you.” Anya’s mouth curved into a smile. “I know if he will talk to you, he will come to love you as we have.”

  Joe braced his hands on the arms of the chair they’d brought into his room to push to a stand. Beth was already on her feet. “You don’t have to—”

  But Joe captured her hand. “I will not hide. Not if you are to become my bride.”

  She opened her mouth, then clamped it shut again. Anya led the way down the hallway. Joe could hear the unfamiliar voice that sounded so much like Nicklaus’s but different, too.

  Nicklaus moved forward as Joe reached the landing. Beth stood beside him, her nervousness apparent in the stiffness with which she met her brother’s enthusiastic hug.

  Jedidiah’s gaze finally settled on him. He could see the man measuring him, a question in his eyes. He held out his hand. “I’m Joe Madison.”

  Nicklaus moved forward. He clamped a hand on Joe’s shoulder, then Jed’s. “He’s a soldier your grandmother and sister took care of during Sharpsburg.”

  Jed’s strong fea
tures and broad chest made up for his relative shortness. He stared between them. “I tried to find grandma but . . .”

  “She’s gone,” Beth inserted into the heavy silence. “She worked so hard to take care of all the soldiers the Confederates brought to us. The Union, too.” Joe heard the catch in her voice.

  Joe held out his hand to the man. “I am sorry for your grandmother’s death. But she took good care of me, just as she hoped someone would care for you if you were wounded and in the South.”

  Jed gripped his hand hard, the words penetrating and revealing Joe’s secret. Joe decided to have it all out there. He would not leave Nicklaus to defend him; he would meet Jedidiah’s disapproval head-on. He released Jed’s hand.

  “Beth has spoken often of you, and has worried at your reaction to our . . . affections. Whether you approve or not, I cannot help but love her.” Beth’s hand slipped into his.

  Nicklaus squeezed his shoulder, as Jedidiah searched Beth’s face. A flare of anger surged, then faded to be replaced by chagrin. A smile broke through. Relief seemed to swirl through the air. Jed pulled Beth into his arms and whispered something against her ear that made her gasp. And, finally, Jed worked Joe’s hand up and down. “Welcome to the family, brother.”

  Only later, after they ate a hearty meal and Jed mounted a scrawny horse to head back to Sharpsburg, did Joe find out Jed’s secret. He and Beth sat on the porch step in the fading light of day, he sitting in the darker shadows where he could not be so easily seen, she in the rocking chair with the quilt blocks spread on her lap. She was working on sewing one of the last two. Just watching her silhouette stirred his joy and tumbled his emotions. So much like those days during the battle when she had sat next to him and sewed. They had shared so little, yet so very much.

  “What did Jed tell you, Beth?”

  She shot him a glance filled with good humor as she pulled the needle through and the thread taut. “He told me he was in love with a Southern woman.”

  Joe bent a knee and draped his arm across it, shaking his head as he chuckled. “Worry comes so easy, and then God smooths things out and we wonder why we worried at all.” Beth didn’t comment. When he glanced at her, her downcast eyes told him she was battling her worries again. He scooted from the shadows, closer to the light until he could look up into her face and see the traces of the silver tears along her cheeks.