by KI Thompson
“I’m sorry, Ellen. But I had to finish entering the information I gathered from the soldiers’ diaries.” Her face lit up. “You’re going to love what I’ve got here. The stories will move you to tears. And just look at these.”
Kate clicked on a couple of folders and pulled up a slide show.
“These are actual pictures of the soldiers whose diaries are housed here in the museum. They’ve been donated by the descendants of the men and other museums and sources around the country. It’s amazing that this stuff survives. I’m telling you, Ellen, this is a human-interest story of the first degree. People are going to eat it up.”
Ellen fought her rising temper. This wasn’t at all what she needed for her book, and her building resentment at seeing her research lying in a pile of disorganized papers added to her frustration. Still, she forced it down, trying not to let her disappointment show. Kate had been making progress, and then the kiss had seemingly unraveled all she had accomplished. Ellen didn’t want to hurt her feelings any more than they had been, but she also needed to get her research going in the right direction. Her direction.
“That’s okay, Kate. I’m sure you’ll get to them today. I’ll review what I’ve got here, then head back into the maps and military communiqué area that Albert showed me yesterday. If you need me you can find me there.”
Kate watched as Ellen left. She felt guilty at not getting Ellen’s work done. But she’d make up for it today. She opened Ellen’s database and began to input the data from her notes. After a while, she was nodding off; the details of Ellen’s research were so boring.
She just couldn’t see where Ellen was heading. Kate’s collection of stories and anecdotes, which she had organized in a logical fashion, was much more appealing.
She picked up a book about a Confederate soldier named David Freeman, who claimed to be the Confederates’ youngest soldier. He had enlisted in the army at age eleven and served all four years of the war. She began to read his story and, before she knew it, several more hours had passed. She looked up at the clock on the wall in time to see Ellen coming from the desk where she had been talking to the director.
“Are you hungry yet?” Ellen asked.
“I am. I was thinking Greek. When we were driving in I saw a little place a few blocks away. Interested?”
“Perfect.”
They walked the few blocks and ordered gyros, carrying them to an outside table in back of the building.
“So how goes the research today?” Kate asked.
“I discovered some interesting field maps of Fredericksburg drawn by Confederate General McLaws that correspond to ones I’ve seen in the National Archives. Albert is having copies made for me.
Along with the correspondence between Lee and Davis, I’m getting a very good idea of how Lee planned to defend the town, when he developed the strategy, and what the Confederates’ thinking was during that time.”
“Interesting,” Kate said, with more emphasis than she felt.
They sat at an umbrella-shaded table and ate their sandwiches and sipped iced tea. It was a picturesque day and the sun had dried all evidence of the previous day’s rain. The air smelled of damp grass and lush vegetation, and Kate began to relax. She still felt a little unsettled, recalling her body’s reaction to Ellen in the car yesterday. If things had been different, she could have pursued Ellen as she used to pursue other women, vigorously and with passion.
But Ellen could have anyone she wanted, had said as much when she told Kate that she had dumped Sandra. Why would she settle for an unemployed, scarred, and washed-up former news anchor?
Although Ellen focused on a table of young lovers, she could feel Kate’s eyes on her. She wanted to meet the intense gaze but was afraid to see the bland affection of friendship. She wanted more from Kate and wondered why Kate had kissed her if she didn’t intend to take things further. It was confusing, but she didn’t want to make their relationship more uncomfortable by bringing the kiss up again.
After returning one last time to the Historical Society, Ellen sat down at the computer while Kate browsed a collection of diaries in the adjoining room. A series of similarly bound leather volumes drew Kate’s attention and she lifted one from the shelf.
Ellen was appalled that Kate had managed to input so little of the data she had collected in the past two days. At this rate, she would never have it in time to make comparisons, and her lack of typing skills would only make the situation worse.
Glancing at the computer screen, she noticed a folder labeled
“Kate” and double-clicked on it. She was surprised to see several documents that had been created within the past two days and now realized precisely what Kate was spending her time doing. After several more hours of one-fingered typing, Ellen finally gave up and shut down the computer. She zipped it up in its case, gathered her notes for the day, and searched for Kate.
Her temper high, Ellen knew it was time to talk with her. This was, after all, her book, not Kate’s, and she couldn’t afford to finance Kate’s foray into a beginner’s view of the Civil War. She found her intently reading a worn brown leather book, so engrossed in it she hadn’t noticed Ellen enter the small room. Ellen was trying without much success to keep her anger in check, but seeing Kate waste her time reading diaries was too much. She cleared her throat loudly, and Kate looked up from the volume.
“Oh, hey,” Kate said. “You’re not going to believe this.” She held up the book for Ellen to see. “This is a diary of a young girl in Virginia during the war, and it’s got to be one of the best I’ve read so far. It’s chock full of interesting historical bits that—”
“Kate.” Ellen could stand it no longer.
Kate stopped speaking. “What?”
Ellen took a deep breath, not wanting what she was about to say to cause more problems than she was intending to solve. “Kate, we need to review exactly what my research entails and how we need to go about recording it. I asked you to come along when my RA cancelled out on me because I thought you had the intelligence and the skills to help me. Plus, I was hoping you would develop at least a passing interest in what I was doing. And you have, and I’m glad you have, but your interest is taking you off on a tangent unrelated to what I’m trying to accomplish.” She paused, wanting to take the sting out of her words. “I need you to refocus, Kate, and concentrate on inputting the data I collect.
In your spare time you can do all the extracurricular reading you like. I think it’s great. And I’d love to hear all about what you’ve discovered. But right now, we need to get back on track before all I’m trying to do is lost or unavailable to help me. Do you think you can do that, Kate?”
Kate sat in her chair, stunned. All along she had assumed what she had been doing was directly related to Ellen’s research. She thought they had agreed to pursue the direction Kate was taking, which would be much more interesting than Ellen’s original idea.
Suddenly she felt the ground shift under her feet and couldn’t think of a response. She stood up and placed the book back in its place on the shelf. Picking up her notepad and pen, she stared at Ellen, keeping her face expressionless. “Okay, got it. What now?” Ellen frowned. Kate’s emotionless delivery made it clear that her feelings were hurt. She couldn’t do anything about that now, but with time she was sure she could smooth things over. She glanced at her watch. “Well, I think we should call it a day. The museum closes in half an hour. An extra day here will get us caught up and then I’d like to move on. Is that all right with you?” Kate shrugged. “It’s your call.”
It wasn’t exactly the cheerful response Ellen was looking for, but she took it nonetheless.
“Okay, how about dinner? I hear there’s a great Italian restaurant not far from the hotel. You up for it?” Kate walked out of the room and Ellen followed. “Thanks, but I’m beat. Plus, I need to enter all your data from yesterday and today, so I’ll be catching up with that tonight in my room. I’ll just order room service.”
; Kate picked up the laptop and headed to the parking lot. If Ellen expected nothing more than her services as a data-entry clerk, that’s exactly what she would give her. Nothing more, nothing less. But she still intended to pursue her own research, for she was finding the diaries far more interesting than she had ever thought possible. Even better than most of the stories she had worked on in the newsroom.
Back in the hotel, Ellen started a bath and ordered room service, seeing no point in going to a nice restaurant alone. She missed discussing the day’s activities with Kate over dinner, but she was glad they had cleared the air—that she had cleared it. She didn’t quite know where Kate stood, except that she seemed pissed. Ellen would let her sleep on it tonight and then make nice over breakfast.
She didn’t like having Kate upset, but guessed it was Kate’s way of processing what she had said. She would much rather have things the way things were, preferably just before the kiss.
❖
Kate had almost finished inputting the last of Ellen’s data and looked at the clock on the laptop. It was after one and she had been at it for six hours. She downed the last of her scotch and stood and stretched. She couldn’t rid herself of a slowly simmering tension or, rather, anger. She was restless and had taken frequent breaks. Now, pacing from the table to her window, she looked out at nothing.
After a few minutes, she had forgotten why she got up and returned to the computer, angrily punching in the remaining data.
Ellen’s reprimand had startled her. The professor had fire under her seemingly gentle exterior, and Kate had received an appetizer of it. Well, two could play that game. If Ellen wanted to keep things on a professional—read platonic—level, Kate would oblige. But there would certainly be no more kissing, no matter how much Kate wanted it.
She turned out the light, crawled into bed, and couldn’t relax for a long time, her mind still occupied with the conversation at the museum. But as she fell asleep, all anger dissipated, replaced by thoughts of kissing…and more.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next day they communicated only when necessary, a situation Kate didn’t enjoy but was proud enough to maintain. When she announced that she had entered everything Ellen had given her, Ellen praised her lavishly, entirely out of proportion to the task. And though Kate brushed the compliment away as nothing, secretly she was pleased.
By the end of the day she was exhausted from the strain of being on her best behavior and didn’t know how much longer she could be nice—it wasn’t in her nature. And she so wanted to remain angry at Ellen, who she felt had treated her like an incompetent or a child. But each time Ellen stopped by the table where she was working and brushed against her, Kate’s mind turned to mush. The anger evaporated and she leaned closer, breathing deeply of Ellen’s tantalizing fragrance.
By midafternoon Ellen had achieved what she had set out to accomplish and decided now was a good time to take a break, even though the museum would be open for another two hours. Kate had worked especially hard, and Ellen decided to make an overture to her. She found Kate working on the laptop, concentrating on Ellen’s notes.
“How’s it going?” she asked, trying to be as friendly as possible.
“Almost finished.” Kate kept her eyes on the screen. “If you’ve got more notes, just put them on top.”
“No more notes. I’m done here. There are a couple of hours left, so if you want to do some research of your own, that’s fine with me.”
Kate glanced up. “It’s not really my research.”
“But you’ve taken such an interest in it,” Ellen insisted. She didn’t want to see Kate neglect her work. It had mattered to her.
“What you’ve described so far sounds intriguing.” Kate frowned. Ellen had already decided she couldn’t use the material, so why bother? She was expending a lot of effort on something that was going nowhere. She did find it interesting, but what difference did that make? She had written better stories as a cub reporter.
She shook her head. “There isn’t time for it. Besides, it’s not going to become a book.”
“But that’s the point.” Ellen’s voice rose a notch. “It could be a book. You could write your own book.” Suddenly she saw a possibility for Kate’s future. “You’re a journalist by profession, a writer. You could take any story you’ve ever come across and write a book about it. Stories about people, about their emotions, those are the kinds of things you’re good at.” Kate was taken aback. Writing a book seemed sedate compared with the fast-paced, noisy newsroom she had been accustomed to.
While she enjoyed what she had uncovered in the past few days, the actual work had begun to bore her and she felt restless. She needed contact with people and the energy and unpredictability that entailed, not writing in an enclosed room.
“I don’t know,” Kate said slowly. “Doing this short-term is one thing, but a steady diet of it doesn’t appeal to me.” Ellen didn’t want her to give up so easily. “Well, think about it.
Don’t close the door on the possibility too soon.” She could see it so clearly now. Kate was smart and intuitively knew what would make a good story. Writing suited her perfectly. And she wouldn’t have to leave her condo and be exposed to prying eyes, her one great fear.
At least she would have ample time to readjust to society without having to deal with it on a daily basis.
As they drove back to the hotel Ellen thought about where to go next. She needed to cover quite a few other sites, but intended to visit some such as Chancellorsville and Spotsylvania on the way back to DC. She wanted to travel to the Shenandoah Valley on another occasion and leave the out-of-state research for last.
Glancing toward Kate, she asked, “Have you been to Williamsburg?”
“Isn’t that a Revolutionary-era town?”
“Well, yes, although there was a minor Civil War battle there, too. I thought we’d detour by there since it’s so close and it’s on the way to Norfolk, our next stop. Williamsburg is one of my favorite places, and I’m also interested in the Revolution. It’s an enjoyable sightseeing place, and on our way back from the coast, we could meander along the James River and see some of the plantations.” After leaving the downtown area and merging onto the highway, Ellen drove west, arriving in Williamsburg an hour later. As they immersed themselves in the living history of the Colonial district, Ellen thought again about Kate becoming a writer. The prospect excited her.
The temporary break from work took a little of the edge off their strained relationship, or so it seemed to Ellen. They wandered from shop to shop, exploring the replicas of eighteenth-century products for sale, as well as the shops dedicated to preserving the kinds of trades that had existed. By the time they made it to the capitol building it was getting late, so they stopped in at Christiana Campbell’s for dinner.
Ellen ordered a glass of wine and perused the menu. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, and she loved being with Kate. The sights and sounds of Williamsburg heightened her senses more than she could remember, probably because of her growing feelings for Kate. While Kate had been somewhat subdued, Ellen sensed that she was getting over her earlier hurt feelings. She regretted being responsible for them, but now she could smooth things over.
“So what are you having?” Ellen asked her.
“The chicken sounds good. What’s spoon bread?”
“Oh, you must try it, it’s heavenly.” Kate glanced at her. The way Ellen looked at that moment in the candlelight, her face expressive and alive, took her breath away.
Try as she might, she couldn’t stay angry and was once again drawn in by Ellen’s beauty. She couldn’t really blame her for wanting to write her book the way she wanted to, even if it was rather dull. She had no right to impose her opinion on Ellen’s book and certainly shouldn’t try to change it. Kate recalled her final day in the newsroom, when she had been angry over someone editing her copy without her permission. She had been ready to rip them a new one.
She sighed, recalling her last day at t
he station. She missed the work and the excitement and knew she’d been good at it—was still good at it. It was where she belonged.
The dinner and the wine helped heal the slight rift in their relationship, and as they left the restaurant, Ellen didn’t want the pleasant evening to end. They meandered down the Duke of Gloucester Street to the car, the shops they passed locked and dark. Ellen inhaled deeply of the smells she always associated with Williamsburg: the lush gardens, the dirt street, the old wooden buildings. At times like these she wished she had been born in another era.
Kate felt Ellen relax and wanted nothing more than to put her arm around her and walk side by side. In fact, she had to make an effort not to. She consoled herself by breathing in Ellen’s scent, floral and feminine, and a warm rush of arousal spread through her.
“We can drive on to Norfolk tonight, get in late, and find a hotel.” Ellen didn’t sound enthusiastic.
“Can’t we just spend the night here?” Kate asked. Ellen seemed so happy at the moment; Kate didn’t want to dispel her mood so quickly.
“Williamsburg doesn’t fit into my budget. The Inn itself is prohibitive, although it wouldn’t be my first preference anyway.”
“And what would be your first preference?” Kate probed.
“Mmm, one of these.” Ellen gestured to a couple of quaint Colonial guest houses nearby. Each had a small plaque indicating its name and an even smaller one stating that it was a guest house.
“They’re separate accommodations, but still part of the Inn.” Kate noticed a small private garden behind each house and perceived the charm that drew Ellen. “Why don’t we just find out if one’s available? My treat.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t.”
“Why not? You’ve been working hard for days. You deserve a break, at least for one night. Tomorrow we can drive on to Norfolk and get back to work.”
Kate watched as Ellen paused and the wheels turned in her head. “Come on,” she said.