Camellia

by Diane T. Ashley

  She stood beside a tall window, one hand strangling the heavy velvet drapes.

  Jonah closed the distance between them and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Camellia.”

  “Go away.” She spat out the words and shrugged his hand off with an impatient motion. “Leave me alone.”

  He sighed. “I’ll leave you alone as soon as you tell me what’s going on.”

  She twisted to face him. “It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Anything that hurts you involves me.” Jonah wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her close. He could see the vulnerability in her large blue eyes, could trace the pain down the wet paths on her tearstained cheeks. “Did he insult your honor?”

  A brittle laugh escaped her. “Of course not. Captain Watkins did nothing wrong. All he did was defend his sister’s honor.”

  Confusion made Jonah frown. He tilted his head as he tried to understand what she had said. Why would Captain Watkins feel the need to defend his sister? Camellia would never attack the girl. They were close friends.

  Before he could puzzle out the answer, she pointed a finger at his chest. “Why did you come tonight?” Her voice was pitched low, some emotion making her tremble.

  The question put him on the defensive. Did she suspect the truth? He thought he had fooled everyone. Jonah’s heart was heavy in his chest. But then he realized she couldn’t have any idea he was a spy. Camellia was a staunch supporter of the Confederacy. If she suspected the truth, she’d tell the soldiers to arrest him. Jonah cast about in his mind for a suitable answer, but only three words came to him. Three words that told a truth even if they didn’t disclose everything. “To see you.”

  Her mouth formed a perfect O of shock. Her blue eyes widened. Silence filled the room as she absorbed his words. Then she shook her head. “You have some other reason. Your mother must have put the idea in your head. You only care to belittle me and my dreams. You and I both know this isn’t the kind of party you generally attend.”

  “You don’t know me at all, do you?” Jonah stepped back. “You judge me for my boyhood days. Can you not see that I am different now? I like to think I have gained a little maturity in the past few years.”

  Camellia shrugged, her pale shoulders catching the light of the lamp on the mantel.

  “I was a child, but now I’m a man. I’ve put away childish things.” He hesitated a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Christ is the One who guides me, not the ambitions of this world.”

  Her pale brows drew together.

  Jonah straightened his shoulders and waited to hear the question he could almost see quivering on her full lips. He sent a quick prayer heavenward that he could properly answer whatever troubled her. That he could help turn her thoughts toward God and the real reason for existence.

  She cocked her head, her curls falling across the curve of her cheek. “Is that why you’re not a soldier?”

  Surprise spread through him as she watched him through narrowed eyes. He almost laughed out loud. Camellia was obviously not ready to change.

  The impulse to tell her the whole truth tempted him to speak. The confession would be so easy. Sharing his secret with someone he knew would be a luxury. Temptation filled him, but with an effort Jonah turned his back on the desire.

  What if Camellia didn’t turn him in? Then she would be a traitor to the Confederacy. Did he really want to put her life in danger for his own sake? Shame replaced his earlier surprise. “No.” The single syllable was harsh even to him. Jonah swallowed and tried again. “No, that’s not it at—”

  “Are you afraid?”

  Jonah wondered how they had gotten so far from talking about the importance of faith. “You can think what you like, Camellia. The truth is that my reasons are private.”

  Her gaze pierced him, leaving Jonah feeling exposed. He supposed he should credit her with looking beneath the surface for a deeper answer. But why did she have to pick tonight? Why was she searching for truth now when she’d accepted him so easily in the past? Was it some kind of test for him? A temptation placed in front of him to see if he would yield?

  “I see.” She turned away from him and took a step toward the door.

  “Wait, Camellia.” Jonah put a hand on her shoulder once more, halting her forward movement. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’m not offended.” She allowed him to turn her to face him, but she kept her gaze centered on the carpet.

  He pulled her closer, intoxicated by the feel of her soft skin under his fingers and the flowery fragrance of her perfume. “I think it’s time for you to realize that I can be a good friend.”

  “I have plenty of friends already.” She glared up at him. “And I don’t need the friendship of a coward anyway.”

  Her words bounced off of him like the first drops of a spring shower. Jonah knew he should release her, but he didn’t seem to have any control over his body. He stepped closer to her, close enough to see the slight tremble in her lower lip.

  Their gazes met, and her anger faded, replaced by something warmer. Something that drew his head down. His hand moved from her shoulder to cup her chin, his thumb grazing the edge of her mouth. Her eyelids drooped in response to his touch, and Jonah leaned in and let his lips cover hers.

  Gently he explored her mouth with his own, teasing her, feeling her response as the kiss deepened. His heart felt as though it was about to burst from his chest. Somehow his arms had wrapped around her tiny waist, pulling her to him.

  When her lips parted slightly under his, a warning bell clanged in Jonah’s head. He could not allow their embrace to continue. She was too young, too innocent. Besides, hadn’t he followed her in here to find out if she needed his protection?

  Jonah made his hands push her away. She needed more protection from him than from the captain who had made her flee in the first place. “I’m sorry.”

  Her gaze fled from his, and she caught her breath with a sound between a gasp and a sob. Raising a hand to her mouth, Camellia scrubbed at her lips as though she wanted to wipe away the feel of their kiss.

  He was a heel. A worm. He had taken advantage of her. Hating himself, Jonah brushed past her and exited the library. If he’d come across any other man doing what he’d just done, Jonah would have demanded satisfaction. Or at least a proposal of marriage to protect her reputation. He certainly wouldn’t have allowed the fellow to slink away without repercussions.

  Hesitating a moment as he considered his options, Jonah strode to the front door and jerked it open. He couldn’t do anything now except put some distance between them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The war didn’t completely stop commerce on the river. Captain Pecanty had permission from both the Union and the Confederacy to travel on the river as long as he did not transport slaves, weapons, soldiers, or suspicious cargo. Lately, each time they made a landing, they had to allow an inspection by some authority and often lost a percentage of their cargo that was deemed to be “suspicious.” It might be nails, copper wiring, sugar—anything was subject to seizure. Once they had even been commandeered as a transport ship for several wounded soldiers.

  Today they had lost a hogshead of flour to the frowning Union commander. According to Mrs. Naomi, it was a small price to pay for an overnight stop in Cape Girardeau, one of her favorite landings.

  Since the beginning of spring, it had become one of John’s favorites, too. Miss Anna Matthews would be there, and perhaps she would be able to spend a little time with him before they had to leave. He could hardly wait to see her.

  “Let’s get this leather loaded.” Captain Pecanty brought his attention back to the boat and the task at hand.

  Two other steamboats floated next to them, a tin-clad armored boat, cannons bristling from every side, and a small, squat tugboat that had seen better days. Last year this dock would have been covered with boats, but the war had changed all that.

  “They’ve pu
t up another fort.” Mrs. Naomi appeared from the galley in her “visiting” dress, a black bombazine with rosettes along its hem, as they finished loading the cargo. “That makes four.”

  The rest of the crew scattered, most of them heading to one or another of the saloons for entertainment while a few returned to the boat to stand guard.

  John watched as the captain helped Mrs. Naomi climb onto the front of the wagon and then took his place beside her.

  “You are coming with us, aren’t you?” Mrs. Naomi sent a speaking glance his way. “I know that a certain young lady will be anxious to see you.”

  John ducked his head while Captain Pecanty laughed. “Leave the boy alone, Naomi. He doesn’t need you to be a matchmaker, and I don’t need to lose such an able-bodied crewman.” He climbed up next to his wife and grabbed the reins. “But you can ride with us if you like, John.”

  Deciding he’d rather wash up before visiting Devore’s General Store, John shook his head and waved them off. He grinned at the disgruntled look on Mrs. Naomi’s face. She might have been instrumental in introducing him to Anna, but she didn’t need to know how effective her strategy had been.

  Devore’s had several shoppers when he entered, the tinkling bell announcing his arrival. John looked about for Anna, and his heart quickened when he spotted the shining tresses of her amber-colored hair. She was helping a couple of Union soldiers find candles, so he leaned against a nearby shelf and waited. Anna was kind and patient with the men, deflecting any personal questions with ease.

  As soon as she sent the men to the counter to pay for their goods, she turned toward him, her smile appearing like the first rays of the rising sun. “Hello.”

  “Hi. I hope you’re doing well this afternoon.” John took her hand and raised it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her wrist.

  Her soft intake of breath was followed by a blush, and Anna looked away from him. “I’m so glad to see you again.”

  John thought her embarrassment was charming. But that was not surprising. He found everything about her charming. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  Silence enveloped them for a moment while John watched her staring at her left foot as it drew a small circle on the wood floor of the general store.

  Anna looked up at him from the corner of her eye. “Do you have a list for me today?”

  “Not today.” He stepped toward her and took one of her hands in his. “I was hoping you could take a walk with me.”

  She giggled and glanced at her foot once more. “I’ll have to ask Mr. Devore.”

  The bell over the door jingled as the soldiers left, their purchases under their arms. Her employer frowned in their direction and moved from behind his cash register. “Is that man bothering you, Anna?”

  Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No, sir. I … he—” She stopped and gulped. “I mean, M–Mr. Champion has asked if he might take me for a walk.”

  John held out his hand to the older man. “If you can spare your assistant, Mr. Devore, I promise to bring her back as soon as you say.”

  Mr. Devore gripped his hand and shook it. “I don’t know if her father would approve. He’s the preacher in these parts, you know.”

  “No, sir.” In fact, he knew very little about Anna’s home life. But that was something he’d like to remedy. “If you think it would be better, I can apply to him for permission.”

  Mr. Devore studied him for a couple of minutes before shaking his head. “I think it will be all right, if she wants to go with you.”

  Anna nodded, the emphatic movement dislodging a lock of her hair from behind one of her ears.

  John’s smile felt more natural than it had for years. “Thank you, Mr. Devore. I’ll take good care of her.”

  He opened the door for her to pass through and offered his elbow, leading her southward, toward a river bluff hosting one of the four forts built by the Union. “How have you been?”

  “It’s been a rather difficult summer.”

  Protectiveness flooded him. John wanted to protect this young woman. It was a foreign idea, but one he could not deny. He wanted to take care of Anna and make sure nothing ever disturbed her again. “Is it Mr. Devore? Is he difficult to work for?”

  “Of course not. Don Devore treats me like a daughter, as does his wife, Norma Jean.” Her laughter calmed his concern.

  “What, then? What dragon can I slay to win your heart?”

  She glanced at him and then toward someone walking toward them. A blue-uniformed soldier approached them, his rifle perched on his shoulder. As he passed them, John couldn’t help but notice the bold way he stared at Anna.

  As soon as they were far enough away for privacy, John halted and turned to face her. “Have the soldiers been bothering you?”

  “What?” She shook her head. “No. It’s nothing like that. It’s just that my aunt has been ill. She has been like a mother to me since my own mother died.”

  John’s ire began to fade. Sympathy took its place. He took her hands in his and rubbed them. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  She gave him a calculating look. “As a matter of fact … there is something.”

  “What? Do you need money? An extra hand back home? I’ll do anything in my power.”

  Her smile appeared inch by inch, and her hands clung to his. “Come to church with me tomorrow morning.”

  She couldn’t have surprised him more if she’d asked him to bring her the sun or moon. John didn’t want to disappoint her, but he couldn’t go to church, couldn’t go anywhere with that many staring eyes. But he found it impossible to express his concern, so he fell back on an easier excuse. “I don’t have a suit to wear.”

  Her face fell. Anna pulled her hands from his and stepped back. “I see.”

  John’s heart clenched. But what else could he do?

  John tugged on his borrowed coat one last time before stepping into the small whitewashed church. Two rows of pews marched toward the wooden pulpit, each crowded with the townspeople. Captain Pecanty and Mrs. Naomi had left the Catfish ahead of him, but he couldn’t see their familiar faces in this sea of strangers.

  What was he doing here? John would rather have faced the danger from a cauldron of boiling oil than walk down the aisle to the only empty seat he could spy. Why had he come?

  As expected, he heard the gasps of the females on his right as they caught sight of the ruined side of his face, saw the way they put protective arms around their children. This was a terrible mistake. John turned on his heel, unable to continue in the face of their collective horror.

  Before he could finish the move, however, the soft touch of a hand stopped him. “Please don’t go.” Anna’s eyes echoed the plea in her words before she turned and speared one of the repulsed ladies with a glare. “You’re welcome here.”

  John let her pull him toward the front. She sat on the first pew and looked up at him, expectation brightening her soft-green gaze. He sat and tried to ignore the whispers behind them. This was as bad as he had imagined.

  Her perfume swirled around him as she leaned close. “I’m glad you came.”

  Suddenly the reaction of the others in the room didn’t seem as important.

  The Reverend Enoch Matthews entered the sanctuary, and every conversation died away as he strode down the aisle. Anna’s father was a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, whose eyes were the exact same shade as hers. He stepped up to the pulpit and laid his Bible upon it before surveying the people in the pews. “Good morning.”

  The people answered his greeting in a single voice, the deeper tones of the men blending with the higher notes of the women and children. “Good morning.”

  John started, unused to such a responsive audience.

  “Let us give thanks to God for the overflowing blessings He showers on us.” Pastor Matthews bowed his head and began to pray, his words flowing over John like a cleansing cascade.

  He listened as Anna’s father spoke to God as though they were perso
nally acquainted. He started by praising God for His sovereignty, His loving-kindness, and His free gift of grace. The older man continued with praises for a list of things … everything from sleeping well to the brave soldiers who protected them from bushwhackers, the rebel guerrillas who preyed on citizens in the border states. He asked for guidance and wisdom as the church faced the challenges and opportunities of the day. He asked God to forgive them in accordance to the forgiveness they offered to others. By the time he reached the end of his prayer, the pastor’s voice reverberated around the room. John was sure they had traveled all the way to heaven.

  Pastor Matthews looked up once more, his face serious. “I have spoken to many of you about the future. I’ve listened to your fears and prayed with you for loved ones who are fighting to keep our country whole. I’ve shed tears with you when you found some of those same names on the lists of missing, wounded, or dead. But today, I’m here to remind you that God knew about all of this before you were even born.”

  He paused, his gaze moving slowly around the room. “I can see the doubt on your faces. How could God allow such pain? How could He let such terrible things happen to us if He truly loves us?”

  John was riveted by the questions. He wanted to stand up and shout his agreement. What kind of God allowed such terrible things to happen to His people? He touched the skin on his right cheek. His punishment was different. He had earned it with his past deeds. But what of those who led upright, principled, honorable lives? Why were their lives full of pain?

  The pastor opened his Bible and began reading from Psalm 139: “ ‘Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee. For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.’