Shelter from the Storm

by Patricia Rice

  Laura sat silently, gazing at the blackened brick walls that were all that remained of Uncle Matthew’s pride and joy. She had read the tiny articles in the Louisville Courier occasionally mentioning a “murderous raid” or “abominable acts of marauders,” but she had never associated those articles with Stone Creek. The war was over. Why keep fighting it?

  Jonathan climbed down from the carriage and came around to offer her a hand. She accepted it gratefully, needing his reassuring squeeze as she glanced up the steps to the house. What had she returned to? And why?

  No servant hastened to open the gracious double doors. No stable lad rushed to take the doctor’s horse and feed it a handful of grain and wipe it down. No laughing faces appeared in the windows, and no one came running around from behind the house. There was no sign of welcome at all. Even Sallie’s golden head didn’t appear to adorn the bank of once-sparkling front windows. And Uncle Matt’s booming voice would never resound again through the hallway, commanding everyone to present himself. It was a strange homecoming, and Laura ascended the porch stairs slowly.

  They knocked, and a dog barked vehemently. Eventually a slight maid in worn calico and dirty apron opened the door, accompanied by a large animal that could only be Franz the Second. The maid nodded at the doctor in recognition, stared rudely at Laura, who had given a cry of joy and bent over the dog, then hurried off down the wide uncarpeted hall.

  Gently Dr. Broadbent pried Laura from the animal and led her after the maid. “This way. No point in making Ward come to us.”

  Still holding the dog’s collar as they traversed the hall, Laura puzzled over the conflicting information she had received concerning Ward’s health. From Sallie’s letters she had assumed him to be on his deathbed. Doc had called him an invalid, yet he had been able to hold off a gang of cowardly marauders. That didn’t sound like any invalid she knew.

  They entered what had once been Uncle Matt’s study just as the maid hurried out. She bobbed a curtsy and scampered in the direction of the kitchen.

  The draperies were pulled and the room was in semi- darkness, but Laura could discern the form of a large man seated in a chair. Ward’s voice was the same warm, friendly drawl she remembered as he pulled back the heavy curtains.

  “Doc! What brings you out this way today? I can see you’ve brought me some lovely company.” His eyes widened as Laura shook off the concealing hat and pulled it away from her face. “Little Laura! For goodness’ sake! I don’t believe it. Look at you. Why, last I remember, you were a gangly-legged filly just making your debut. I’d make a bow if I could, but you’ll have to accept my hand instead.”

  Ward took her mittened hand in both of his and squeezed it warmly, giving Laura the reassurance and welcome she needed. It took a moment longer before she realized he wasn’t sitting in the desk chair, but in some contraption with wheels. When he came around the desk, she could see the outlines of his legs beneath the blanket, but they didn’t move as he rolled into the room’s center.

  “Have a seat, both of you. Lottie’s gone for some lemonade. Sallie should be here any minute. My mother and sister-in-law came to fetch her for some tea party.”

  Laura settled her skirts on the old velvet settee and tried to recover her tongue. Between the neatly trimmed bands of his sideburns, Ward’s face was thinner than she remembered, and the gold of his hair had faded. He no longer sported the tanned healthiness of a man who preferred the outdoors, but his eyes were still warm and vaguely amused as he waited for her to speak. She had never been much for words around him, and he must have realized she had not changed.

  “You don’t know how good it is to see you looking so well, Ward.” She managed to finally formulate a complete sentence. “After Sallie’s letter, I imagined the worst.”

  Ward glanced down at his useless legs and a shadow crossed his face, but when he looked up again, he was smiling. “Well, to Sallie, my inability to dance probably is the worst. I daresay I’d feel the same if our positions were reversed. So, tell me, little Laura, where have you been hiding out all these years? I never thought that rogue Marshall had it in him to settle down. I’m glad I was wrong. You look prettier and happier than I ever remember seeing you.”

  They were still exchanging news when the front door opened and the patter of light feet and the rustle of silk and crinolines hurried down the hall. Sallie flew through the doorway in a burst of sunshine, carefully coiled ringlets dancing golden in the light as she threw aside her fashionably feathered hat with its gauzy streamers and stretched out her arms in exuberant welcome.

  “Laura! You’ve come at last. How dreadful of you to leave me like that! I cried myself to sleep for weeks. You’ve come to stay, I hope. Why, I don’t know how we’ve done without you.”

  She grasped Laura’s hand, turned charmingly to the doctor for support, and completely ignored the man sitting in the chair behind her. Her pretty face was as animated as ever as she kissed the doctor’s cheek and pulled Laura down beside her on the settee, and Laura had to sigh with exasperation as she realized one thing hadn’t changed—Sallie’s self-centeredness.

  Disengaging her hand, she glanced from her cousin to Ward. “I don’t want to be a burden to anyone. I’ll do my share to help around here if I stay. But, Sallie, I think this is something you need to ask Ward. He may not want another useless female around. I’ve been taking care of myself for four years now; I can continue to do so. I don’t want to live on anyone’s charity.”

  Sallie opened her mouth to speak, but Ward interrupted before a sound emerged. “Laura, this is your home. You don’t need my permission to stay. Just be aware that we’re likely to work you half to death if you do. Neither of us has ever been known for unselfishness.”

  Sallie gasped with indignation, the doctor coughed, and Laura gave Ward a relieved smile. One of them had matured over these years, at least. She held out her hand in agreement.

  “Done. I’ll live in the lap of luxury and work like a slave. It seems a fair exchange to me.”

  ***

  Laura hadn’t underestimated the situation with that brave declaration. Stone Creek had never relied heavily on slave labor, but there were certain tasks that the local population considered the province of blacks alone and therefore beneath their dignity. Combined with the loss of healthy workers due to the war, the manpower needed to run a large farm was severely limited. Only planters wealthy enough to pay the highest wages could afford to continue operating on the same scale as before the war.

  And Stone Creek was far from being wealthy. Laura didn’t mean to pry, but when Sallie returned from town with her arms loaded with packages and Ward’s expression took on that expression of pain Laura had learned to recognize in her first few weeks back, she knew all wasn’t well.

  Since her homecoming, Laura had taken over the tasks of helping in the kitchen and overseeing the weekly laundry, for which workers were imported from town for that day only. She had not dared ask Ward if they might have more help to trim the gardens or clean the house. What labor was available went into the fields. Their livelihood came from what could be grown in the rich acreage beyond the lawns. If there were money available for house servants, Ward surely would have provided them.

  So Sallie’s extravagance on the frills and furbelows so dear to her heart could be the only reason for the pained frown between Ward’s eyes as he watched her rush upstairs with her new acquisitions. The first few times this happened, Laura politely turned her back and walked away, but the day she had to hoe the kitchen garden herself because Lottie declared she wasn’t getting paid enough to do it, Laura stalked into the study after Ward.

  She found him poring over the farm ledgers, his ink- stained fingers and the stacks of scribbled papers across the desktop giving evidence that he had spent the better part of the morning in this occupation. She took a seat beside the desk and waited patiently for him to look up.

  He looked so tired and unwell that Laura’s heart went out to him, and daringly she cov
ered his hand with her own, bringing his restless scribbling to a halt. “How bad is it, Ward? I can see that half the crops haven’t been planted, and without the foals to sell in the fall, we’ll be hurting, but surely we’ve cut enough expenses to get by?” She knew all about cutting expenses from hard experience.

  A thin smile appeared on Ward’s lips. “Don’t you fret about it, Laura. I can’t walk or ride a horse, but I can still manage a few things. You go on up to bed now.”

  Those were the kind of words she had been hearing all her life, and a sudden fury swept through her. She had just worn her hands to the bone to keep from hiring another expensive servant. Did he really think she was totally incompetent?

  She was no longer a child, and it was on her tongue to tell him so, but the way Ward passed his hand across his brow in weariness made her bite back the angry words. His pride was at stake as much as hers. It seemed a shame they couldn’t work together to solve the problem, but the barrier between them was greater than she had remembered.

  Laura rose stiffly but did not go without a few parting remarks. “Uncle Matt refused to sell our slaves even though he said they cost too much. He wore out too many fields planting tobacco. This place was losing money before I left. Whatever shape it’s in now is not your fault, Ward, but it looks like it’s up to you to make changes. I’ll help in any way I can, but you have to tell me what to do.”

  As she moved toward the door, she heard Ward speak her name, and she turned back questioningly.

  In the light of the oil lamp his face looked shadowed, and her stomach jumped at the ghostly image she saw there. Dr. Broadbent said he was healthy. She didn’t dare think otherwise.

  “Laura, if you would . . .” He seemed embarrassed, and hesitated before continuing. When she waited, he was forced to go on. “See if you can talk to Sallie. I could have hired three good laborers with the money she spent today. I know I owe her a lot for not being able to give her the kind of life she expected, and it’s hard for me to deny her anything, but she has to see that things have changed. No one has the money to go out and buy as they did before.”

  “The whole world could turn upside down tomorrow, Ward, but Sallie wouldn’t change. I’ll speak with her, but you’d best write letters to all her favorite shops here and in Lexington and in Louisville and everywhere else, telling them not to extend any more credit. We might not change Sallie, but we can change the world around her a little bit. It is a very small world she lives in, you know.”

  Ward’s smile was bitter as he nodded his head in agreement. “I know. I’ll take your words into consideration. Thank you, Laura.”

  He wouldn’t do it, she knew as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Sallie slept in her lonely glory in the master suite upstairs while Ward hauled himself into the cot in the study each night. Never would it occur to Sallie to rearrange the rooms so she could sleep downstairs and take care of her husband’s needs. And never would it occur to Ward to suggest it. He would protect Sallie and her way of life until his dying day. Laura wondered what Sallie had ever done to deserve such devotion.

  Her talk with Sallie the next day was as unsuccessful as she had expected. Her cousin looked up with surprise when Laura broached the subject, then smiled and waved her hand to dismiss it. “Don’t be silly, Laura. Why, I only spent a few dollars yesterday. Surely a few dollars won’t bankrupt us. Ward wouldn’t want me to go to his nephew’s christening in old clothes, would he? Of course not. By the way, I’ve invited his family and the rest of the guests over here afterward. I think it’s time we began socializing again. Papa always said he sold more horses at a party than he ever did at market.”

  Laura stared at her aghast, but Sallie seemed perfectly oblivious of the cannonball she had just exploded. They didn’t even have enough hired help to scythe the grass. And what horses did she think they would sell?

  Biting her tongue, Laura calmly agreed. “Very well. The christening is Saturday, isn’t it? We’ll have to have wine and champagne, fruit for the centerpiece, more ice than we have left in the icehouse. Someone will need to slaughter and dress a hog . . . I don’t believe we have any more hogs, do we?” She began ticking their material needs off on her hands.

  “I’ll tell you what, Sallie,” she continued. “I’ll go into town and see about supplies. You find a cook who knows how to make something besides fried chicken and greens, a half-dozen maids to set this place to rights, another half-dozen gardeners so our guests won’t have to wade through the lawns, and by Saturday we’ll be ready. We’ll just have to serve the food and drink ourselves, though. I don’t think we’ll have time to train house servants.”

  Sallie glared at her, picked up an ostrich-feather fan, and switched it back and forth. “Well, I declare, Laura, you needn’t get so snippety about it. I’m just trying to help, after all. Just because I can’t cook and clean doesn’t mean I can’t be useful. I’m good at parties. Ward knows that. He ought to be grateful that I’m trying. Why doesn’t he buy some yearlings, if that’s what bothers him? That’s what Papa would have done.”

  It was always pointless to talk reason to Sallie. Everything was always someone else’s fault, someone else’s responsibility. Laura had learned the only way to deal with it was to drop the subject. When Sallie observed the house was not magically cleaned and the lawns were still not tended, she would find some way of blaming someone and call off the party. That kept the aggravation level to a minimum.

  ***

  On a particularly humid day at the end of June, Ward rolled his chair to the porch to join Laura as she broke beans from the meager garden. Steve, Ward’s older brother, had just left, and after being cooped up in the stuffy study with him all day, Ward looked worn and melted. His shirt collar had lost its starch, and irritably he pulled at his cravat to loosen it. Always formally correct, he wore his coat and waistcoat still, but at Laura’s questioning lift of her eyebrow, he began to struggle out of the top coat.

  “Help me out of the blamed thing, Laura. You’ll excuse me this once?”

  “I not only excuse you, I sympathize. I want to know the fashion arbiter who dictates women must wear long sleeves except in evening. I’ll wager she’s a Yankee.”

  Ward grunted his thanks as she helped him off with the coat. “Well, it’s evening. Where are your short sleeves?”

  The pale brown silk she wore was one she had owned before the war. It had a high neck and pleated bodice, and a high waistline that was exceedingly out-of-style, but it made a sensible day dress. Laura lifted the limp skirt wryly.

  “’Tis evening, but not an evening gown. When you have to clean and press your own clothes, you become more cautious of changing frequently.”

  Ward gave a ragged sigh and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “My brother wants to buy some of that bottomland adjoining his farm. It’s good for horses, and we haven’t got any. I’m thinking of selling.”

  Ward didn’t ask for her advice, but it was in his voice. The land had become his when Matthew died. Kentucky law was based on English common law, and a married woman couldn’t hold property. Her husband was even entitled to her wages. It didn’t seem fair, but in this case it was justified, Laura knew. If the land had to be sold, Ward would get a much better price for it than Sallie.

  Laura shuddered when she thought of what it would have been like had Sallie married someone like Marshall. He could have sold the whole farm and disappeared with the proceeds. In that, he and Sallie were much alike. How she could have been so blind and ignorant puzzled Laura when she thought about those days. She wasn’t at all certain that her judgment was sound if she could fall for the likes of Marshall Brown.

  “I hate to sell that stretch,” she answered thoughtfully. “It’s prime land. Couldn’t we sell something else and buy a few horses?”

  Ward looked dubious. “Maybe. Do you think Sallie will object to selling anything off?”

  Laura gave him a wry look as she pushed the rocker with the tip of her toe. “She doesn’t have mu
ch choice, does she?”

  Ward turned his chair so he could watch her rocking, snapping and sorting green beans in the fading light. He touched her hand, halting her constant motion.

  “Laura, you’re too young to waste away your life out here. Why did you come back?”

  She glanced up in surprise at Ward’s sympathetic tone. He had always been a handsome man. His golden hair and chiseled face held women spellbound when he turned his charm their way. The chiseled features were lined now, but she still wouldn’t mind tracing her fingers over the dent in his chin, just below that mobile and rather seductive mouth. She smiled at his sudden concern for her.

  “I was too young to waste away my life out there. Why do you ask?”

  Ward frowned at her facetious answer, but it was a thoughtful frown, and his fingers wrapped around hers as he weighed his words. “You’ve been a married woman, Laura. I won’t offend your maidenly modesty if I speak of a man’s needs?”

  Laura’s free fingers clenched. She was glad the half-light hid her embarrassment. “I doubt that I ever possessed much maidenly modesty, Ward. I’ve never been like Sallie, you know.”

  “I know,” he said softly. “That is why I felt free to speak to you. Sallie does not see me as a man anymore, but I am. Only my legs are useless, not the rest of me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman. Your coming here reminds me of that every day.” He hesitated. “I thought, perhaps, if you should ever feel those same needs . . .” Ward drew away his hand and made a gesture of disgust. “Oh, hell, Laura, I’m not any good at wooing without horses and dancing and romantic strolls through the gardens. Forget I ever said anything.”

  Laura hid her flush of embarrassment by clasping her hands in her lap and staring at them. She had a very good idea of what he was talking about, but yet she didn’t. She felt vague needs and desires when the air filled with spring and restlessness was everywhere. She felt the same when she stripped naked in the privacy of her room and daringly slept that way in the summer heat. But she had never associated these strange stirrings with Ward, and she could not now, although, much to her chagrin, she tried.