“Josh,” Clay said, “hop upstairs and find me a book called The Last of the Mohicans, will you?”
“Yes, s–sir.”
Melora waited until Josh had disappeared up the steep ladder and exclaimed, “I forgot. I put that book in another box. Rena, go tell Josh to look in the small box, not the big one.”
Rena blinked and cast a nervous look at Clay, who said, “Go on, daughter, do what Melora tells you!”
When Rena reached the top of the ladder and stepped into the large room, she saw Josh turn toward her. She had dreaded this moment—yet longed for it for days. At once she walked across to him and whispered, “Josh, I’m…I’m sorry I hit you! You were right, and I was wrong!”
Josh was stunned, and as he looked down and saw how afraid she was and noted the tears beginning to gather in her eyes, he swallowed, saying hoarsely, “Aw, it w–wasn’t nothing.”
“Yes, it was!” Rena tentatively put her hand on his arm, and her voice was so low that he could hardly hear her as she said, “Will you be friends again, Josh?”
Josh had been miserable since leaving Gracefield. He’d gone about his work with a dullness and lack of interest, so that his family knew that something was very wrong with him, but he had not spoken of his problem.
Now as he looked down and saw Rena’s dark eyes looking at him in a woeful manner and her soft lips trembling, he couldn’t stand it. “I’d like that,” he muttered, then added fervently, “I missed you something awful, Rena!”
“Did you, Josh? Really?” Rena suddenly threw her arms about the boy and held him closely. “I was so miserable I thought I’d die!”
Josh was shocked almost witless by Rena’s embrace. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his arms. The pressure of her form against him sent a shock through him, and he stood there stiff as a ramrod. Then he put his arms around her and patted her on the shoulder. “Let’s never fuss again, Rena!” he said.
Rena drew back suddenly. “Josh! You’re not stuttering!”
Josh blinked and realized that she was right. “I guess you scared it out of me!” he marveled.
“Oh, Josh!” Rena was so excited that without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips—and then she froze, realizing what she’d done. Josh, she saw, was staring at her, and finally she said, “Well, it was only a little kiss! Didn’t you ever get kissed before?”
Embarrassed by her boldness, she turned away and started for the door, but he leaped after her, caught her, and whirled her around. “Not by such a pretty girl,” he said. And then he heard himself saying, “But I like it fine, Rena.” And he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
He drew back, and they stared at each other wordlessly. Finally Rena said, “Will you come back, Josh? And take me coon hunting and fishing?”
Josh nodded, answering at once, “Sure I will.” He stared at her, then said again, “I’ve missed you a heap, Rena!”
Clay and Melora noted the expressions on the faces of the two young people when they finally returned with the book. Clay couldn’t resist saying, “Must have had to look hard for that book, Josh.”
But Melora said, “Now stop that, Clay.” She rose and headed for the door, saying, “You can come and help me feed the stock.”
“I’ll do that,” Buford protested, but Melora gave him a warning look, and he mumbled, “Well, I guess not.”
Clay walked with Melora, taking her hand. “I guess Rena and Josh made up,” he remarked. “She was miserable.”
“So was Josh.”
They fed the stock; then she took his hand and led him down past the barn to the small pond. They stood there looking at their reflection in the still water. “Remember when the snapping turtle bit me and wouldn’t let go?” she said with a smile.
“I remember.”
Clay let his mind go back and thought of the twelve-year-old Melora, her eyes filled with tears as he’d worked to get the small turtle to release her. “It must have hurt like the dickens, but you didn’t cry out loud.”
“No, I didn’t, did I?” Melora was caught up in the memory and said gently, “We have lots of memories, don’t we, Clay?”
Clay Rocklin took her in his arms and saw her eyes widen. He bent his head and kissed her, savoring the softness of her lips. Then he lifted his head and said, “Melora, I love you.”
“I love you, too, Clay.” I’ve loved him since I was a little girl, she thought. He may not come back from the next battle. I want to have all of him I can—and to give him all that a woman can give a man.
“Melora!” Clay stroked her black hair, and he held her in his arms. The still green water of the small pond mirrored their image, and there was a holy quietness over the earth.
Finally he said huskily, “I can’t promise you how long—”
Melora put her fingers over his lips and lifted her face, saying, “Now is forever, isn’t it, Clay?”
CHAPTER 24
“WITH THIS RING I THEE WED”
Clay, for heaven’s sake, sit down!” Colonel Taylor Dewitt had joined Clay in the pastor’s study. The faint sound of the organ filtered through the door, and Clay had been pacing the floor like a caged lion. As Clay’s best man, Taylor felt it his duty to keep the bridegroom from exploding, and he said in disgust, “It’s only a wedding, man! Why, you didn’t get this nervous at the Bloody Angle!”
Clay halted abruptly and glared at his friend. “This is worse than going into battle, Taylor,” he muttered grimly. “I’d rather get shot than go out there!”
The two had been friends for years, and Taylor came to lay his hand on Clay’s broad shoulder. “I guess I was the same when I got married. Goes with the territory, I suppose—” He broke off as a short man with fair hair and intense blue eyes entered. “Glad you came, Pastor. The bridegroom’s about ready to make a run for it.”
Rev. John Talbot, pastor of Faith Church, the largest in Richmond, was accustomed to nervous bridegrooms. “Quite natural,” he said, smiling. “But let me tell you this, Major Rocklin—fifteen things may go wrong when we go out there. The maid of honor may fall flat, one of the guests might drop dead of a heart attack, the roof might fall in.…” Rev. Talbot paused dramatically, his lips lifting in a smile as he added, “But when you walk out of that church, you’ll be a married man!”
Clay laughed, amused by the short minister. “I trust you for that, Rev. Talbot. But all the same I’d just as soon we’d eloped.”
“And rob the women of a chance at a good cry?” Dewitt jibed. “Not likely! Anyway, you couldn’t cheat Melora out of a big wedding.”
Clay knew that Taylor was right. He himself had wanted to have the ceremony at the small church near Gracefield, but the pastor was serving as a chaplain with Lee’s army, and the church would never have held the crowd. Clay had stood outside watching the crowd arrive, and the sight of what seemed to be half the people in Richmond and the surrounding countryside shook his nerve.
“Let’s go over the ceremony one more time, Reverend!” he pleaded.
“Now, Major, there’s no reason for that. You just do what I tell you, and everything will go all right. Colonel Dewitt, you have the ring?”
“Ring?” Taylor stared at the pastor blankly, then snapped his fingers. “I left it at camp.”
“You did what!” Clay shouted. “Why, I should have known better than to—”
Taylor laughed loudly and pulled the ring from his pocket. “Of course I have the ring! Now calm down, Clay. It’ll soon be over, and it won’t hurt a bit.”
“You make getting married sound like pulling a wisdom tooth!” Clay glared at him. His nerves were frayed, and he asked nervously, “What time is it?”
At that moment the organ music swelled, and Pastor Talbot said, “That’s our signal. Now you two just follow me.”
Clay walked stiffly through the door behind the minister. As he took his place with Dewitt standing beside him, his jaws were tightly clenched, and he swallowed hard. The church was ill
uminated by bright waves of pale yellow sunlight that streamed in through the high windows. Clay forced himself to relax, and slowly he took in the crowd that had gathered in the large sanctuary.
His mother sat in the first row to his right. Susanna Rocklin was a serene woman, but her fine eyes were filled with satisfaction as she smiled at him.
David, dressed in a fine gray suit, sat next to Susanna, and next to him were Dent and Raimey. Dent’s face was turned so that his scar was invisible to Clay, but when he turned, the jagged slash was obvious. Clay glanced at his daughter-in-law—blind but lovely as a young woman can be! And nestled in her arms was Clay’s infant grandson, Thomas. Clay didn’t think he was biased when he thought that this was the most beautiful baby in the whole world. And then his eyes fell on Lowell and Rooney, both of them beaming at him.
Clay noted briefly the other members of the Rocklin clan—the Bristols and the Franklins with all the younger ones. Then far back in the balcony, the black faces of Dorrie, Zander, Box, and the slaves he’d known for years.
On the other side, he saw the pews were filled with Yancys and their kin. Most of the men were gone to the war, but the women and children were there, dressed in their cotton dresses and Sunday shows. And throughout the church he saw faces of friends. He also was shocked when he recognized some of the leaders of the Confederacy—including Alex Stephens and Jefferson Davis!
Then the great organ swelled, and everyone in the building rose and turned to see Miss Rena Rocklin, the maid of honor, as she came down the aisle. She wore a light blue gown that Clay had never seen, and there was such joy on her face and such grace in her figure that he could hardly believe what he saw. She’s become a woman, and I’ll never have that little girl again! Glancing to his left, he saw Josh standing with his family, and there was an expression on his youthful face that was close to worship. He loves Rena, and I wouldn’t be surprised—
But he never finished his thought, for once Rena was in place, the great organ filled the sanctuary with the beginning chords of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” Clay’s head turned to the entrance, and there she was—Melora!
She wore a dress of pure, shimmering white silk with a high lacy bodice and a long train. The dark sheen of her hair was set off by a filmy veil, and her beautiful green eyes glowed as they met Clay’s.
Buford Yancy, wearing a worn black suit and a string tie, was at her side. Melora took his arm, and the two of them made their way down the aisle. A calmness enveloped Melora, a serene air that was a reflection of her spirit. She was smiling slightly as she came to stand before Rev. Talbot, but Clay saw that her eyes glistened. She looked at Clay, handsome and tall in his ash-gray uniform, and thought, He’s the only man I’ve ever loved!
“Who gives this woman in marriage?”
Buford Yancy swallowed hard, then nodded. “Reckon I do.” He did his part by placing Melora’s hand in Clay’s, then went to the front pew and seated himself.
As the minister began to speak, Clay could feel the pressure of Melora’s hand. He returned it and found it strong and warm. The moment he took her hand, all nervousness left him, and he listened carefully as Rev. Talbot spoke of marriage and the sanctity of it.
When it came time for the two of them to say their vows, Melora’s voice was not loud but so firm that those in the balcony heard her clearly. “I, Melora, take thee, Clay, to be my wedded husband…to have and to hold…to love and to cherish…in sickness and in health.…” She turned to look at Clay, and diamonds were in her beautifully shaped eyes. Then as he spoke the old words to her, her lips quivered but still were soft with a smile.
“With this ring I thee wed.”
Clay slipped the gold band on Melora’s finger and then lifted her hand and kissed it. The unexpected gesture brought a sigh from the women in the audience, and the pastor smiled. “Very well done, Major. I hope you will be doing the same on your golden anniversary!”
Clay looked at him, then put his eyes on Melora. “You may be sure of that, Reverend!”
“By the authority vested in me by the sovereign state of Virginia, I pronounce you man and wife! Major, you may kiss your bride!”
Melora turned her face upward, and her lips were tender and yielding as Clay bent to kiss her. For one instant she clung to him, then stepped back. “Now, Mister Clay,” she whispered, using her familiar old name for him, “you finally belong to me!”
Then the music swelled, and the couple made their way to the back of the church. They could not leave, of course, for a reception had been planned. “We have to be patient,” Melora whispered, seeing the anguish on Clay’s face. “Everyone wants to wish us well.”
For over two hours the newlyweds were subjected to well-wishing. Clay’s back was slapped and his hand was shaken until it was sore, and Melora was the recipient of many kisses.
The first to come brought a shock, for it was none other than Jefferson Davis and his wife, Varina. The president shook hands with Clay, saying, “Congratulations, Major! My prayers will be with you!” Then as Mrs. Davis bowed to Clay, murmuring her congratulations, Davis moved to Melora. He was an austere man, not given to gestures. But perhaps it was the face of Melora, so peaceful and full of joy, that moved him to lean forward and kiss her on the cheek.
“Why, Mr. President!” Varina Davis exclaimed. “You’re becoming quite a courtier!” And then she, too, stepped forward and kissed Melora, whispering, “I hope you will love your husband as well as I love mine!”
Finally the line ended, and Melora and Clay had one brief moment with Susanna. She kissed them both, then stepped back, saying, “I wish your father were here to see this. Now be on your way!”
Clay and Melora were struck by a hail of rice as they stepped outside. Both of them were startled when a command rang out: “Draw sabers!”
Clay got a glimpse of his old comrade Bushrod Aimes standing at the end of a double line of gray-clad troopers. A grin adorned his round face as the men drew sabers. The gleaming sabers flashed in the sunlight, and the sound of clashing metal broke the stillness of the morning. Clay and Melora moved under the canopy of bright steel, and Clay noted the grinning faces of his comrades-in-arms as they held the sabers rigid.
When they reached the end of the line, Bushrod stuck his hand out. “Get out of here quick, Major! There’s talk of one of those fool shivaree things!”
“Thanks for the warning, Bushrod,” Clay said, grinning. He helped Melora into the buggy and took the lines, and when he spoke sharply, the team leaped instantly into a fast gallop.
Watching the dust, Bushrod said to Taylor Dewitt, who’d come to stand beside him, “Looks like they’re in a hurry, don’t it?”
Taylor watched the dust rising from the wheels of the buggy and shook his head. “I don’t blame them,” he murmured. “They’ve only got a few days. I don’t reckon they want to waste a second of them!”
“Oh, Clay! It’s perfect!”
Clay had helped Melora out of the buggy, and the two had entered the small cabin nestled on the bank of a small lake. “It’s not the Majestic Hotel in Charleston,” Clay said quickly. “Actually it’s a hunting lodge, but it’s private.”
Melora was delighted as they entered the cabin. “Look, Clay, everything is so neat—and someone filled the cupboard with all kinds of groceries!” Clay smiled as she dashed around the room, making new discoveries. Finally she turned to ask, “How did you do all this?”
“Well, actually I hired Mort Jenkins and his wife to get it ready. They live about five miles from here.” A humorous light touched Clay’s eyes, and he said, “Let me show you the rest of the place.” He moved across the room and opened the door, and when Melora came to stand beside him, she looked inside to see a large double bed. A brightly colored bedspread was turned back to reveal freshly starched sheets. Melora felt her cheeks grow warm, and she refused to turn and look at Clay. He said nothing, and finally she turned and met his eyes. “It looks…very comfortable,” she managed.
“I’m sure it is.”
Melora suddenly giggled and, giving Clay a gentle shove out of the room, said, “Get my bag. I need to change out of this wedding dress.” When Clay’s face brightened, she rolled her eyes. “Mind yourself, Mister Clay. I’m going to put on another dress so you can show me the lake.…”
They roamed the trails of the dense woods holding hands, and the sound of their laughter frightened a small herd of deer. As they fled away, Melora cried, “Oh, look, Clay—a fawn!”
Later they moved around the path that bordered the edge of the lake. “We can dig worms and come fishing,” Melora said. When Clay remarked blandly that he might find better things to do, she pushed him suddenly so that he couldn’t catch his balance and fell into the water. He came out and ran after her, catching her in his arms and threatening to toss her in. But she clung to his neck and begged, so he shook his head and put her down. “You treated me much better when you were nine years old!”
Melora gave him a slanting glance—infinitely feminine—and murmured, “Oh, I don’t know. I may treat you better than you can imagine, Mister Clay!”
Clay’s eyes grew wide in anticipation—and surprise at Melora’s forwardness. “Why, Mrs. Rocklin!” he said in mock innocence. He reached for her, but she ran away and he pursued.
Later she cooked supper, and they ate by candlelight. When they had finished, he helped her with the dishes, and then they went outside to walk beside the lake. The moon glowed brightly in the sky, then came down to repeat itself in the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets sang their monotonous song, and a frog they startled cried, “Yikes!” and plunged—kerplunk—into the water. They watched the circles spread over the pond, and when the lake was finally still, Clay said quietly, “I wish we could stay here forever, Melora!”
She reached up and touched his face, then announced, “We’ll come here often. It’ll be our place.” She hesitated for one brief moment, then said quietly, “Give me a few minutes, Clay.”
Appomattox Saga Omnibus 2: Three Books In One (Appomatox Saga) Page 85