“Well, I wish to my never!” he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. “I do believe I smell something to eat!” Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed the beef. “You fellers get the table set, and put out the best silver. I’ll have this little darlin’ cooked ’fore you can git done!”
As Dooley scurried away to begin cooking, Tom said, “Just talked to Mark. I’m going to Richmond as a courier.”
Novak gave Tom a quick glance, for he was well aware of Tom’s marital problems. But he said only, “Tell Pet I’m fine. And give my best to all the folks.”
“Sure, Thad.” Tom hesitated, then added, “Lots of our fellows have gone home and haven’t come back.”
“That’s right,” Novak said evenly. He had a face that was Slavic, with a pair of dark eyes and stiff black hair. He had come to Belle Maison right before the war broke out, a fugitive from the North. He had been taken in by the Winslows, and in a most unlikely scenario had fallen in love with Patience and she with him. Even more unlikely was the truth that had emerged, that he was a distant relative of the Winslows. Now he was a part of the family, and a fine soldier. He was fond of Tom and wanted to help, but there was little anyone could do about another man’s marriage.
Tom lifted his gaze to meet that of Novak, and the pain was evident to the lieutenant. “Thad, you and Pet get along so well. Why can’t Marlene and I make it? What little time we’ve had together has been pretty bad.” He bit his lip, then shook his head, despondency in every line of his lean body. “She wants something from me that I just can’t seem to give her.”
Thad Novak was a quiet-spoken young man, not given to sermonizing. Yet looking at the misery in his brother-in-law’s eyes, he felt a strong urge to say something that had long been in him. “Tom, when Pet and I got married, neither of us knew anything—I mean nothing! I’d never even seen a happy marriage until I got here and saw your parents. What I did, Tom, was look at them—and I think that’s the best advice I can give you. You know what I’m talking about, I guess. They’re both fine Christians, and they learned somewhere along the line to put God first—even before each other. Your father told me about that before Pet and I got married. He said if I put her first, I’d likely lose her. But if I put God first, I’d have God and her.”
Tom shook his head slowly. “I’ve never known God, Thad. It’s not my folks’ fault. They’ve always taught all of us to go to church and to pray. But somehow—it’s never been real to me.” His lips twisted and he added, “Nor to Marlene. We never talk about such things.”
“Maybe it’s time you did,” Thad suggested gently. “Go talk to your parents, Tom. Get Christ in your own life—and then you can think about Marlene and your marriage.”
Tom nodded, but there was no hope in his expression. The next morning after he left for Richmond, Thad spoke to Mark about it. “He’s hurting real bad, Mark. If something doesn’t change, he’s liable not to make it.”
Mark knew what he meant, for both of them had seen men lose their drive—which often led to their deaths—when their wives left them. “I know, Thad. I put a letter to Father in with other letters. Maybe he can help Tom. But I don’t know about Marlene. She’s never been happy at Belle Maison. Seems like she’s always wanted something else, but I don’t know what.”
Thad hesitated, then asked cautiously, “Mark, have you ever thought that Tom married the wrong woman?”
Mark chewed his lower lip, then nodded. “Yes, I’ve thought about it, but there’s nothing to be done, Thad.”
“Except to pray.” Thad thought of his own wife and the warm love they shared. “A man’s never complete unless he has a good woman.”
****
Richmond looked little like the city Tom had last seen. The men and women who walked its streets wore haggard faces and clothing that was patched. There was an air of despondency that hung over the place, and after Tom delivered his leather bag filled with dispatches to the adjutant, he was glad to ride out toward the open country.
But an early fall had stripped the leaves from the trees, leaving the limbs bare and the sparse grass dead and brown. It was a stark countryside, and the few travelers he passed gave him no more than a slight nod. The small number of horses and mules he saw were lank skeletons, for all the cream of the stock had long ago been sent to the army.
He turned off the main road, anxious to see Belle Maison, and when it came into view, he kicked his mount into a fast trot, the best the animal could manage. The sight of the white columns that spanned the front of the house brought a light into his eyes, and he pulled the jaded horse up, throwing the reins down and running toward the house.
“Anybody here?” he called as he took the steps two at a time. The front door flew open, and his mother met him halfway with outstretched arms. He caught her to him, holding her thin frame. He noticed she’d lost weight, and when she released her grip and moved back, he saw that the times had brought lines into her face.
“Tom—why didn’t you write us?”
“Guess I’m the mailman, Mother,” he grinned. Then he looked over her shoulder and saw Marlene standing at the top of the stairs. He released his mother, ran up the steps, and put his arms out. She was as beautiful as ever, though paler than he remembered. He could only call her name over and over as he held her hair against his face.
She didn’t speak, so finally he loosened his grip and leaned back to look into her face. Her black eyes were wide and there was an air of vulnerability about her that he could not quite understand. “It’s good to see you, Tom,” she said quietly. “Can you stay long?”
“No, I only have a few days,” he replied. He wanted to crush her in a wild embrace and kiss her, but the knowledge that his mother was watching made him refrain. “You look well, more beautiful than ever.”
She smiled briefly. “Come along. You must be hungry.”
Rebekah had remained still, giving the pair their moment of privacy, but something about their restraint brought a shadow into her eyes. She shook it off, saying, “You two visit. Pet and I’ll have something ready soon.”
She went back into the house, meeting Pet, who had seen Tom from an upstairs window. “Mother—it’s Tom, isn’t it?” she asked, and would have gone into the library where the pair had gone.
“Give them a minute, Pet,” Rebekah urged. “He only has a little time. We can get the news from him later about Mark and Thad.”
Pet gave her a quick look, for she was a very discerning young woman. “What’s wrong, Mother? It’s not something about Thad, is it?”
“Oh no, Pet!” Rebekah said quickly. “If there’d been anything wrong with the boys, Tom would have told us at once. It’s just—”
Pet saw that her mother was struggling with something, and she thought she knew what it was. “Did Marlene seem glad to see him?”
“Not as glad as I’d have liked.”
Pet glanced toward the library. “She’s not talked about him for weeks. What’s wrong between them?”
“I don’t know, Pet,” Rebekah said. “I’ve tried to talk to her, to give her a chance to tell me what the problem is. But she’s shut up to me, refuses to even speak of trouble.” She lifted a hand to her brow, seeming to brush away the thoughts that came to her, then said with a shake of her head, “Come now, we’ve got to make his visit as nice as we can. Let’s put out the best we have.”
“I’ll go out to kill Fed,” Pet said with a determined nod. “He’s the only chicken we got that’ll feed us all.”
Rebekah smiled slightly. “He’ll be giving his life for a good cause. I’ll get the dumplings started.” The two women plunged ahead with their preparations, and when it was all on the table, Pet said, “I’ll go call them for supper.” She ran down the hall to the stairs, ran halfway up, and called out, “Tom! Tom! You and Marlene better come and get supper! Hurry up, because I can eat it all!”
She stood waiting with a smile, for Tom had always been a favorite of hers. She heard the door to the bedroom open, then close
, and then Tom came around the landing and she ran up to greet him. “Tom!” she cried and threw herself into his arms. She held him fiercely, the tears rising despite her determination to keep them back.
“Well, now—” Tom said, holding her tightly, then pulling her back and kissing her on the cheek. He held her at arms’ length, studied her, and shook his head. “I wish ol’ Thad were here. He’d do a better job of kissing you than I can.”
He put his arm around her and started down the stairs. Pet looked back, asking, “Isn’t Marlene coming?”
“Oh, she’ll be along soon. Said not to wait supper for her.”
“Oh.” Pet said no more, but saw that his face was set and that the smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. Something’s wrong, she thought, but said only, “Of course. Now, come on and let me introduce you to Fed.”
“Fed? Who’s that?”
He found out as they sat down to the table, for his sister waved a hand toward the huge platter of fried chicken. “This is Fed,” she grinned. “His full name was Southern Confederacy, but that was too much of a mouthful, so we just shortened it to ‘Fed.’ ”
Tom laughed. “Well, give me one of his drumsticks. He’s about to join up with the Third Virginia!”
The meal was excellent—Fed, biscuits, baked potatoes, sweet potato pie, and a bubbling dish of blackberry cobbler, all washed down with sweet milk. Both women noticed that Tom ate little despite his gaunt face and lanky form. He kept looking toward the door, and finally said, “Marlene wasn’t feeling too well.”
“There’s been some kind of fever going around,” Rebekah replied quickly. “I expect she’s got a touch of it.” Then she changed the subject. “I wish your father had been here. He’ll be sick when he hears he missed you.”
“Tell us about Thad and Mark,” Pet said, and for the next hour Tom spoke of the two, giving every detail he could think of. After a while he said, “I’m talked dry! You two tell me what’s been going on here. When I get back those two will drive me crazy wanting to know everything. And you’d better get your letters written for me to take back.”
The evening ended early. “I’d better go see about Marlene,” Tom said, “and I’m pretty tired, so I guess I’ll just go to bed.”
“Yes, and sleep late tomorrow,” Rebekah suggested. She kissed him good-night and gave him a quick hug. Pet got her kiss, then Tom left and the two women began to clear the tables, helped by Dulcie and one of the other house servants. When that was done, they sat down in the kitchen, speaking of the things Tom had said, but both of them were troubled.
Finally Pet said, “Mother, isn’t there something we can do?”
“Sometimes we can help people,” Rebekah said slowly. “But unless a person wants help, there’s not a blessed thing to do!”
Upstairs, Tom Winslow was having the hardest time of his life. Marlene was standing with her back to the wall, her eyes cold as she said, “Don’t put your hands on me—not ever again!”
When he and Marlene went to the bedroom that afternoon, Tom had been so hungry for her touch that he had made love to her at once. So frantic had he been that he was only vaguely aware of her protests, but afterward she had turned from him, crying bitterly and refusing to speak to him. He had stood there, white and shaken, unable to get her to say a word. Finally he had gone down and gotten through the meal, but all the time he was hoping that when he returned, she would be different.
But she had been even more adamant, and now he cried, “Marlene, what in the world is wrong?”
She gave him a stony look and finally said wearily, “I wish I’d never met you!”
“I thought you loved me!”
“I thought so too—at first. But I hate this place!”
Tom stared at her, stunned and confused. “Honey, we don’t have to stay here. After the war we can go anywhere you say.”
“After the war!” Marlene cried. “When that happens, I’ll be far from here!” She moved toward the door, edging around him as if he were a dangerous animal. When she opened the door, she paused and gave him a look he never forgot. “Forget about me, Tom. I’m not for you!”
She closed the door—and for the next two days she smiled in public, but once the bedroom door shut, she refused to speak. Tom slept on the floor for two nights, and on the third morning, he saddled his horse. He kissed his mother and Pet goodbye, then turned to Marlene.
“Goodbye, Tom,” she said, offering her cheek. “Be careful.”
“All right.” Swinging onto the saddle, he rode away, looking back only once. His mother and Pet waved, but his wife stood like a statue.
And that was the last time he saw her until the war was over . . .
****
When Tom stacked his musket at Appomattox on Sunday, April 9, 1865, he was one of the 7 left alive out of the 120 men who had enlisted in Company A in 1861. He joined his brothers, Mark and Dan, his brother-in-law Thad Novak and his friend Dooley Young, and the five walked back to Virginia. None of them had much to say, for the last months of the war had drained them.
It took a long time to get back to Richmond, and when they arrived, the sight of the city stunned them. Even after the horrors they had seen, it was unbelievable what the war had done to the proud city—nothing but gutted streets and skeletons of buildings remained.
“I hope the Yanks didn’t burn the house,” Thad muttered, voicing the others’ thoughts.
Dooley left them to go to his own home, and the four men continued on. When they finally turned off the main road, there stood the house! With a cry of joy they broke into a run across the green grass.
As they neared the house, Sky, Rebekah, and Pet flung the door open and rushed to meet them, followed by some of the faithful blacks, mostly aged ones, who had not left.
Immediately Tom noted that Marlene was not among them. He had not heard from her, and the cautious letters he received from his mother and Pet hinted that she had been unsettled—especially after she discovered she was expecting a baby. The news that he was to be a father had been exciting, thinking that a child might renew his relationship with Marlene. But as time went on and she had not written, hope had dulled.
“Where’s Marlene?” he asked.
Rebekah pulled him aside as the others went inside. “Tom, she’s not here.”
“Not here? Where is she?”
Rebekah felt the pain in her son as though it were her own. She had prayed for guidance in telling him about his wife, but there was no easy way.
“She left here four months ago. We haven’t heard a word from her.”
“But . . .what about the baby?” Tom said hoarsely. “She can’t be alone!”
“Tom,” his mother said gently, “she’s . . .not alone.” He stared at her uncomprehendingly, and Rebekah forced herself to go on. “Your father did everything he could to trace her, but all he could find out was that she left on the train . . .with a man. A couple, the woman fitting Marlene’s description, got as far as New Orleans.”
Speechless and stunned, Tom tried to gather his thoughts together. Finally he said, “I’m going to find her. If she doesn’t want me, that’s up to her. But the child will be mine!”
“I thought you would,” Rebekah nodded. “But remember, Tom, it’ll be her child, too. Don’t do anything foolish.”
The agony in his heart registered in his eyes as he groaned, “What could I do more foolish than what I’ve already done?”
The next two months he spent recuperating, getting his strength back. He hadn’t realized how utterly spent he was—emotionally and physically. He said little, listened a great deal, and as he grew stronger he began doing tasks around the place.
During that time, he watched Pet and Thad, happy for them, but saddened to know that the love they had would never come to him. His sister Belle, who had been so filled with bitterness when her husband had been killed at Antietam, had found happiness with Davis Winslow, a distant relative. Tom liked his new brother-in-law, and was happy when Bel
le’s father-in-law, a wealthy man, financed the rebuilding of the plantation. He’d been worried about his parents, and was grateful that they were being cared for.
Mark, he saw, was restless, and knew that his older brother would never be satisfied to stay at Belle Maison. Nor would Dan. He had already told the family he was going to Texas. Though the war had not killed the brothers, it had somehow shattered the ties.
The day arrived when Tom was ready to leave. In his heart he knew he would not see his brothers for a long time—perhaps for good. He bade them goodbye and then turned to his folks.
“Come back if you can, Tom. We’ll be here,” his father said, forcing some money into his son’s hand as he left.
“Yes, sir, I will.”
He boarded the train for New Orleans and began his search for Marlene. It was a cold trail, for her parents were dead, and he could locate no other relatives, but he continued his pursuit. For weeks he walked the streets, sometimes approaching strangers to ask if they had seen the woman whose picture he carried. Most of them looked at him with compassion but could give him no information.
By now his money was running low, and just as he was convinced that he was on the wrong trail, he got a lead.
Tom had become acquainted with the owner of Mack’s Cafe, and one June evening as he stopped in for supper, Mack waved him to one side, saying excitedly, “Tom, I think maybe I got something on your wife!”
Mack’s Cafe was not fancy, but the food was good and cheap. Mack himself was a thickset Irishman, red-faced and pugnacious. He’d felt sorry for Tom, having had a daughter run away under similar circumstances. He’d kept a copy of the picture of Marlene that Tom had made, asking people from time to time if they’d seen the woman.
“What is it?”
“Well, a guy comes in here sometimes—not too often. He works in one of them big charity hospitals, St. Joseph’s. He came in tonight, and I showed him your wife’s picture. Bless my mother’s memory if he didn’t say she’s in the hospital, about to have a baby!”
“Mack, was he sure?”
“Swore on his daddy’s wooden leg,” Mack said, his eyes shining. “He said there wasn’t no two ways about it. Said you could come and see for yourself. He couldn’t remember her name, but it wasn’t Winslow. But they can’t have too many women about to have babies, can they? You can check them all!”
The Crossed Sabres Page 4