He waited with barely leashed patience as their ship was inspected by the harbormaster and a couple of Union soldiers. As soon as they were cleared, he went onshore and strode up the hill to the central part of town. The sun was sinking toward the western horizon, but he calculated it was only about three in the afternoon. Anna should still be at work.
The moment John pushed open the door, he knew something was wrong. Devore’s looked like an unkempt child. Items were crowded every which way on the normally orderly shelves, and a film of dust dulled the shiny counter behind which she and Mr. Devore usually stood. The latter was helping a female customer, but John could not see Anna anywhere. Another lady stood in her place behind the counter. His heart thudded to a stop. Where was Anna? Had there been an accident? Was she sick?
Lord, please let her be safe and healthy. The plea filled John’s head. He walked to the counter, his mind dwelling on the macabre possibilities. They lived in a dangerous time. Anything could have happened to her—a snakebite, the attack of a wild animal, yellow jack fever. His mind spun.
“Are you all right?” The lady in Anna’s place looked at John with concern. From Anna’s descriptions, he knew the attractive woman must be Norma Devore, Don’s wife.
More concern washed over him as he realized she must be assisting her husband due to Anna’s not being able to work. “I’m fine. I was hoping to see Anna. I’m John Champion.”
“Anna’s at home,” Mrs. Devore said. “Her father had an accident, and she’s been nursing him.”
At least she was not hurt—or worse, dead. John thanked the woman and hurried out of the store without asking any more details. He had to get to Anna. Make sure she had what she needed. His gaze remained fixed on the road in front of his feet, the prayer in his mind becoming wordless as he cast his cares before his Lord.
A knock on the door of the Matthewses’ place brought a middle-aged woman to the door, Anna’s aunt Tessie.
“Is Anna home?”
Before she could answer, John heard a sound in the hall behind her. Aunt Tessie stepped back, and there she was in front of him. His Anna. His gaze took in her appearance in an instant, cataloging the dark circles under her eyes, the droop of her shoulders, and the desperation in her gaze.
“John?” Her expression eased a little. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
Aunt Tessie finally took care of the social amenities as he and Anna could only stare at each other. “Come in, young man.” He then noticed the same mixture of weariness and fear in her face, too. “Why don’t you take him to the parlor, and I’ll see if I can fix a tray for the two of you.”
John followed Anna down the hall, noticing the general air of disorder here, too. “How is your father?”
Anna shook her head and opened the door to the parlor. She sat down in a rocker that dwarfed her and leaned back. “He’s failing.” A catch in her voice made John want to gather her in his arms and comfort her. “I don’t know what to do. Aunt Tessie is doing everything she can, but she’s still recovering from her illness.”
“What happened?”
“Pa was cutting down a tree out back because it had begun to lean and he was worried it might fall and take down part of the house.” Anna parroted the words as though she’d told the story many times before. “I don’t know exactly how, but the tree fell the wrong way, and Pa was caught underneath it. Aunt Tessie was resting in her bedroom and couldn’t hear him calling for help. By the time I got home several hours later, he was b–barely hanging on.”
John closed his eyes for a moment, seeking words of comfort for her. Something that would let her know how much he regretted everything that had happened to her and her family. “I’m here now, and I’ll do anything I can to help you.”
She looked up at him, her eyes watery with unshed tears. “Thank you, John. Just seeing you is a blessing to me.”
“What can I do?”
“Pray. Pray that God won’t take my pa until he and my brother have made their peace with each other.”
John frowned. “You have a brother? You’ve never mentioned a brother before.”
“I haven’t seen him in nearly a decade. The last letter I had from him is more than five years old.”
“Where is he?”
She shrugged. “The last time Blake wrote to us, he was living in a town in Mississippi … Natchez or Vicksburg, I can’t remember exactly.”
“Blake Matthews is your brother?” John’s knees weakened, and he collapsed on the nearby sofa. In all of his dreams of what this day would bring, he’d never imagined such a calamity. He’d never thought a nightmare of gargantuan proportions would swallow his future whole. He’d never thought that the woman he’d fallen in love with would bring his doom on him.
Camellia watched as Jonah’s health returned slowly over the next days. His deep cough still worried her, but he shrugged it off with a quip. He even spent a few hours each day sitting in one of the two chairs in his room, his legs modestly covered with a blanket whenever she or Jane was with him.
Today, however, he had spent the morning sitting up, so now he rested in his bed as he finished the light lunch she had brought.
When Jane left them alone while he ate, Camellia decided to tackle the subject they had both avoided since he’d first awakened. “I don’t understand how you can betray everyone you care for.”
His sigh was long and led to another cough. As soon as it passed, he picked up his tray and handed it to her. “You do understand that a soldier must follow orders, right?”
“Yes.”
“Thad is following his orders, isn’t he? He might choose to get you and his sister to safety before completing his mission, but he cannot. His duty must come before family obligations or others will suffer.”
“Yes, but—” A sudden jerk of the boat threw Camellia forward. The tray hit the far wall, and she sprawled across his lap with an unladylike grunt.
“I know you find me attractive, Miss Anderson, but you really must control yourself.” Jonah’s laughter brought his cough back.
Camellia bounced off of him as though she had springs under her. “I’m sorry.”
As soon as he stopped coughing, he raised his head and stared at her. “I can’t say that I am.”
Her face flamed. Trust the man to make a joke at her expense. Shouts and the sound of feet running down the passageway provided her with a needed distraction. She moved to the door and peeked out. “I wonder what’s happened.”
“It’s time for me to get out of this bed and find out.”
A rustle behind her brought Camellia’s head back around. Jonah had thrown his sheet back and was putting his feet to the floor. She gasped at the sight of his bare legs sticking out from the tail of his nightshirt. “Jonah!”
“You may want to leave if you don’t want to be offended.” His voice was grim and determined. “I refuse to lie here and wait to find out what disaster has overtaken us now.”
Camellia picked up her skirts and fled. As she ran to the room she shared with Jane, she realized the paddle wheel was not churning. Had they hit another snag? A sandbar? She threw open the door and found her friend trying to lace up the back of her dress. “Let me help.”
“Do you know what’s going on?” Jane looked over her shoulder, a concerned look on her face. “Have we finally made it to Jacksonport?”
“I don’t know.” Camellia finished with the lacing. “Let’s go see.”
The main deck was empty. Camellia glanced at Jane, who reached for her hand. Had the men deserted them? That made no sense. Thad would not leave them voluntarily. Her heart thumped.
“We must get free. We may lose another day.” Thad’s voice came from the far side of the boat.
Jane and Camellia followed the sound to discover the men, even Jonah, standing in ankle-deep water just off the bow. That’s when she realized that the packet was sitting at an angle. They had run up onto a sandbar. She looked at the gangplank that had been swung to the bank
to allow the men to see the extent of the damage done.
“I didn’t realize we were on a schedule.” Jonah’s voice was still weak, but he had managed to negotiate the gangplank, a definite improvement.
Jane squeezed her hand and pulled her forward. “What’s wrong?”
The captain scratched his head, dislodging the slouch hat he wore.
“I was trying to avoid a snag and ran us into more trouble.”
Another of the men sighed. “We’d better get busy.”
“Can we help?” Camellia hoped the answer would be no.
Jonah laughed and exchanged a glance with Thad. “Not unless you can handle a shovel.”
“Look at that.” Jane’s voice sounded sad to Camellia.
She looked toward the bank and saw what had drawn her friend’s attention. A stunning plantation had once commanded a view of this bend in the river. All that remained of it, however, was a burned-out shell. The spreading limbs of live oak trees formed a path from the bank of the river to the front steps. Five tall columns were spread out as silent sentinels across what had once been an inviting veranda edged with a profusion of azaleas, bougainvillea, and roses.
Visions of slave uprisings and Yankee marauders made Camellia’s head spin. “I wonder what happened there.”
Mr. Carlton stomped out to join them, his gaze surveying the ruined estate. “Most likely lightning.” He pointed with his cane at a tree Camellia had not noticed earlier, its trunk blackened, its bare limbs reaching toward the sky. “See the hole in that wall? Once the fire breached the house, it was too late to do anything. It would have burned in less than an hour.”
Camellia turned to Jane. “Are you feeling adventurous?”
“Not me.” Jane shook her head and shrank back.
“Come on. We can spend the afternoon exploring while the men do their work.” Camellia drew her forward. “It’ll be fun.”
Jane squealed as the gangplank bounced under their feet, the river water rushing a few inches beneath their feet. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Thad shook his head and waded back to the bank, meeting them before they got halfway across the narrow wooden planks. Walking three abreast was impossible, so he took his sister’s arm and guided her to the bank. Then he turned back to where Camellia stood with one hand clutching the packet’s rail. Instead of offering her his hand, he bent and scooped her into his arms.
Caught off guard by his unexpected action, she had no choice but to rest her head against his chest.
Mr. Carlton chuckled and she heard the tap-tap of his cane as he moved away. The captain was giving instructions to his crewmen, ignoring the women and Thad.
Jonah was a different matter, however. He stood at the end of the gangplank, his face a mask of fury.
Thad put her feet on the ground, his hand settling around her waist. “Is there a problem?”
Jonah’s hands clenched and unclenched. “As a friend of Camellia’s family, I can be considered a chaperone. I don’t know how you’ve been comporting yourself while I’ve been indisposed, but I’ll thank you to act like a gentleman now.”
Stepping away from her, Thad straightened his shoulders. “My actions are in keeping with the man who will one day be Camellia’s husband.”
Camellia’s mouth dropped open, but before she could say anything, she saw Jonah sway.
His complexion had grayed to almost the same hue as his uniform. His gaze went to her face. “You’re engaged to be married?”
“I am not.” She shot a look of warning toward Thad. “And this is not the time or place to discuss such matters.”
To his credit, Thad moved to Jonah and steadied him. “I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn, Camellia, but it cannot be a secret that I care about you greatly. And now that we’ve spent all this time practically alone on the river, everyone will expect us to—”
“Enough.” She stomped her foot on the ground, coughing at the dust it raised. “You might make the same argument about myself and Jonah, or even Jonah and your sister. We’ve been adequately chaperoned the whole time, so I will hear no more on the matter.”
Both Jonah and Thad looked at her, their faces slack. Then Thad glared at Jonah. “You ought to get inside before you fall over and I have to carry you, too.”
Jonah snorted but never took his gaze off her face. Even as she walked toward the ruined house, she could feel a prickle on the back of her neck. Why did the man have such fire in his eyes? And why did she feel so bruised? She ought to be glad two men were vying for her attention, but all she felt was persecution. She hadn’t done anything to deserve their attention or their scorn. She would not feel guilty.
Mist had settled on the water overnight. Now it rose in wraithlike tendrils, first hiding then revealing the surface of the river.
Jonah settled into a chair provided by the engineer and watched as the plantation home receded in the distance. It had taken the men all night to move enough sand for their boat to float free. How much longer would it take them to reach Jacksonport? And what would happen to him when they did?
“How do you feel this morning?” Camellia’s voice pulled him away from his thoughts.
Jonah looked at her, standing so demurely in front of him. He had thought her beautiful when she wore glittering finery, but she was even more so out here on the river without her fancy coiffures and fancier dresses. Her eyes were bluer than the sky, her lips as soft as the petals of a rose. Even though she looked as delicate as porcelain, he knew better. Many women would have spent their time weeping and bemoaning the danger and privations of this trip. Camellia had not complained even once. He could not afford to give in to the tenderness flooding him. “Not as tired as your fiancé.”
“Don’t call him that. Thad spoke out of turn.”
Her denial made his heart pound. “Are you saying you don’t love him?”
She looked past his shoulder, a frown on her lovely face. “I … Oh, I don’t know how I feel. I always thought I would marry someone like Thad, but now I don’t know.”
“He’s a good man—honorable and caring. You could do worse for a husband.” What impulse made him defend the Confederate soldier? She could see for herself what kind of man Thad was. Jonah didn’t need to push her in that direction. But somehow her happiness was important to him, more important than his own.
Her head shot up at that. “Are you saying you want me to be engaged to him?”
“Only if it will make you happy.” Jonah sighed. “I’ve known you for years, Camellia. I’ve seen you during good times and hard times. I’ve seen you act the part of a supremely egotistical debutante. Your physical beauty is undeniable, but at times I’ve thought I glimpsed something else in you … something admirable, something warm and caring and honest.”
A tear slipped free and trickled down the curve of Camellia’s cheek.
Jonah’s breath caught. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I only want you to be sure you love Thad before you agree to marry him.”
She rubbed a finger across her cheek. “Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing. I think about that sermon. Do you remember? The one at your church where the pastor talked about the narrow path that leads to salvation. I thought he was being silly. Everyone I knew felt the same way. We all believed in the South, the Cause. But I’m not so sure anymore. War is a harsh, scary thing. How many men will give their lives for an ideal that has nothing to do with God? How many lives will be ruined when husbands, brothers, or sons never come home again?”
Jonah took a deep breath. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing now. Their conversation had taken a much more serious turn, a turn that could lead her either to a closer relationship with Christ or to a life of discontent that ended in eternal destruction.
He closed his eyes and prayed for the right message to give her. She was the missing lamb, the one the Shepherd left His flock to find. For the first time, Jonah understood why the Shepherd would risk everything to bring one lost lamb back in
to the fold. “Hundreds, even thousands will be affected before the war is over. It’s the nature of war.”
Her gaze came back to him. “That’s the real reason, isn’t it?”
“I believe the South is wrong. I believe the soul of every person is precious to God, no matter the color of a person’s skin. I believe slavery is an abomination that must end if our country is to survive.” Jonah paused. Should he tell her everything? Let her see how far he would go … had gone? “Even before the war began, my brother, Eli, and I helped slaves escape to safe havens. He didn’t want me to volunteer to fight because he understood what you are just now seeing, the death and destruction. But I couldn’t stand on the sidelines. Following God’s urging is more important than my comforts, my life, or even my family.”
Emotions chased each other across her face—fear, knowledge, understanding, and finally determination. “What can I do to help?”
Her question made him want to shout with joy. And in that moment, he knew why Thad’s announcement had caused him so much pain. He was deeply, completely, irrevocably in love with Camellia Anderson. If she married someone else, it would be a disaster of monumental proportions. He wanted to extract a promise from her to wait for him. He wanted her to vow not to marry Thad. But he could not. He would not. So he shrugged. “Keep your eyes and ears open. God will give you the answer in His time.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The landing at Jacksonport should have been crowded with townspeople and soldiers in the morning, but Camellia could see no sign of activity.
White tents littered a clearing nearby; lazy tendrils of smoke rose from cooling campfires. Gray-coated soldiers with bayonets attached to their rifles patrolled the edges of the camp, their faces hard as they watched the packet approach the empty landing.
As soon as the gangplank was lowered, Thad marched across it and headed toward a tent over which a Confederate flag waved.
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