Craig flashed a dubious look and lowered his drink. “What could you possibly mean by that?”
“Well, we can only assume that Colonel Fielding has been watching us closely to have attacked Kathleen at my warehouse. A place I visit frequently.” Spinning his tumbler he strode across the room an idea gaining momentum. “We may be able to set him up.”
Craig drew a pensive breath. “And how do you suggest we do that?
“I don’t have it all figured out yet,” Curtis paced the length of the room working to shape the ideas in his mind, “but he’s started his game and told me what his intentions are. Now he expects us guard Cadence like the crown jewels on display in France. He wants to steal her out from under our noses. If we can fool him into believing she’s truly vulnerable even for a second we can set a trap and have him.”
“You mean fool him into thinking he’s fooled us.”
“Exactly,” Curtis nodded. “This could actually work. We’ll need a location, maybe a house, about five, no, make that ten men working in shifts...”
“Look, Curtis, it’s a good plan, but—”
“But what?”
“How do you feel about using your wife for bait?”
Curtis deflated, physically… mentally… and collapsed onto the green chaise, contemplating the amber liquid in his glass.
“Curtis?”
“I think she’s pregnant,” he blurted, looking straight into his brother’s eyes with a mixture of horror and uncertainty.
“Oh.” Craig’s breath came out in a whoosh. “Uh, well, you think? Have you asked her?”
“No, but she’s tired all the time, moody, she’s been sick since Christmas.” Dryly, he quirked his lips. “You tell me, Doc, is she pregnant?”
Craig took a seat beside him. “I take it she hasn’t said anything to you.”
He snorted. “She’s probably afraid to tell me. I haven’t exactly been a model husband.”
“I know the feeling.” Craig took a leisurely sip of his drink. “None of us are perfect husbands, Curtis. Marissa left me once.”
Curtis turned with a raised brow.
“She was pregnant with Christopher too. And,” he took another sip, “you’re far more astute than I proved to be because I didn’t realize she was pregnant until after she told me.”
“Yeah, well, don’t be too impressed.” Curtis reached for the whiskey bottle.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Why do you think I married her, Craig?”
“I’d suspected as much.” He gave Curtis a crooked grin though there was no humor in it. “Couldn’t leave you wife well enough alone, eh?”
“Can you blame me?”
“No.”
Curtis let his head sag miserably. “I have made such a mess of everything. I have ruined her life and I don’t know why I ever thought I could be enough for her. I never deserved her, and I knew it.”
Craig sat in contemplative silence for a long while. Curtis sensed one of the big brother lectures he found so aggravating coming on, but when Craig spoke it was not what he would have anticipated. “This whiskey you brought over is good.” He tilted the tumbler back. “Where did you get it?”
“It’s Irish I think.”
“I didn’t ask who made it I asked where you got it.”
Curtis shrugged. “Hell if I know, the bottle came with the ship.”
“You mean?”
“For all I know it belonged to Admiral Farragut himself.”
Craig grinned. “You really put one over on those Yankees.”
“More than one I should think. Although I warn you, most of those stories have been embellished by half.”
“I’m sure.” Craig’s smile faltered. “It’s been a long time since we’ve really talked hasn’t it.”
“‘Bout seven years I should think.” Curtis shifted uncomfortably. “Craig, I don’t think I ever apologized for—”
His brother raised a silencing hand. “Let’s not go bringing that up again, it’s been forgiven for some time now.”
“Because you thought I was dead.”
“Your humor certainly hasn’t improved over the years.”
“Sorry.” Curtis shrugged.
“I never told you, but I was Billy Cole’s surgeon when he died.”
“What?” The tumbler nearly slipped from his hand.
“I spent a year with the Army of Northern Virginia before I was transferred to a hospital right here in Charleston. Before I was transferred, Billy came through the field hospital where I was stationed, and I brought him home with me.” His voice wavered. “He died on my operating table, Curtis.”
“I really don’t need to hear this,” Curtis whispered, hands beginning to shake. “You think I don’t know it was my fault? He died because of me, Craig.”
“That is my point, Curtis. It wasn’t your fault. God knows I blamed myself when he died and it was so much worse because we thought you were dead. Did you know that Billy blamed himself when you were reported missing?”
“What? Oh, God, no,” Curtis groaned, head falling into his hands.
“He blamed himself for not being there to protect you.”
“But I killed him! Don’t you see, Craig? I convinced him to lie about his age and enlist in that North Carolina regiment. It’s my fault.”
“No you didn’t,” he grabbed the younger man’s shoulder. “He told me what happened, Curtis, he told me everything, even about the Yankee.”
Curtis’s eyes widened with horror. He stood, ready to bolt.
“Look at me, Curtis. Look at me! You’re not responsible for any of it. Not Billy. Not the Yankee. Let Cadence help you. She wants to help you.”
“You wouldn’t understand, Craig.”
“Wouldn’t understand? Do you think because I’m a doctor that I did not see the things you saw? Do you think I don’t know guilt?” His brother grew incredulous. “You’re not the only soldier to suffer, Curtis. You’re not the only man who has been shot! During the war I walked past countless wounded, dying men because I had to weed out those who could be saved. I had men who were nothing more than little boys crying for their mamas, begging me to save them, and I could do nothing more than move past them to the next and then the next. I’ve sawed more limbs than you have fingers and toes, and I’ve stacked more dead bodies than you have planks on that fancy Yankee ship. I have more blood staining my hands than you could ever begin to imagine.” He stood raking a hand across his face. “God, man, I can still see their faces. I still dream about it for Christ sake.”
Curtis was struck quite literally speechless. For so long he’d been bottling the truth of his emotions away from the world he’d never once stopped to consider those who may be or feel as tormented as he.
“And if you are quite over your five year pity party, I think your wife could use your support about now! How do you think she feels having a husband who keeps secrets from her and who she’s afraid to tell she’s pregnant? Pretty damn alone, I’d wager.”
Curtis sat dead silent and deathly still for a full minute looking to his brother with new respect. “Well, don’t I feel like an ass.”
“No arguments here, you have always been an ass.” Regaining composure Craig turned. “I got a little off track here, but my point is this, do not let whatever evils you perceive having committed consume your life. Men are human and men are sinners but all men and all sinners can be forgiven. I know our father has been hard on you, too hard, and I know what horrors you saw in the war but it’s time to let them go.”
“What if I can’t?”
Craig tossed back the last of his drink and shuddered before looking Curtis dead in the eye. “Do you love her?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know that?”
“Well, er, no.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”
“How complicated can it be? Either you love her or you don’t and before you get ahead of yourself in this hare brained sc
heme to catch Fielding I think you need to talk to her.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right, about everything.” He sighed. “I just don’t know where to begin.”
“Start with ‘I love you.’”
Twenty-seven
Cadence smiled wistfully down at her nephew who’d just fallen asleep in his crib. Looking to her sister-in-law she said, “He looks so peaceful now that he’s finally sleeping.”
Marissa rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and laid a hand over her slightly protruded stomach. “Like a little angel. Deceiving isn’t it.”
“You know that’s what Curtis always calls me, an angel.” She wanted to laugh but found tears pricking the back of her eyes instead. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Craig is forever comparing me to butter.”
“Butter?”
“Butter. Like he’s going to eat me or something, it would be much more romantic to be called an angel or,” she laughed, “even a devil for that matter. In any case I don’t know what I’m going to do with two little monsters.” Marissa sighed, flicking her gaze over Cadence. “Have you told Curtis that you’re pregnant?”
Her eyes widened. How had Marissa known? Tears instantly swam to the front of her eyes.
“You haven’t, have you?” Compassion laced Marissa’s pretty face and she reached forward, giving Cadence’s hand a comforting squeeze. “Is there any particular reason?”
“I…” her lip trembled. “I know I need to, it’s not as if I can hide this from him forever, but…” she lifted her shoulders noncommittally. “I don’t know how he’ll react. You saw him last night, and our marriage is not exactly one built on trust. I’m scared.”
Marissa smiled encouragingly. “Did it ever occur to you he’d be happy?”
“Not really. He’s planning to leave as soon as my father’s murder is solved.”
“Leave?”
“He wants to set me up here in Charleston and go back to sea.” She swallowed miserably against the hard lump permanently lodged in her throat. It was devastating to think of being left alone. She didn’t want to be alone. The thought of having a baby was frightening enough but to do it without Curtis… She shuddered. She’d known plenty of sailor’s wives in her life and she’d always pitied them, alone for months on end, seeing their husbands just long enough to become expectant mothers again. Now she was destined to be one of them. It was as though she’d left one personal hell for another.
Perhaps if he loved her it would be different, more bearable, but as time progressed she was coming to realize he had no intention of committing to her as she had to him. Baby or not he would leave her and she would be little more than a passing obligation in the back of his mind. Curtis believed himself a monster and maybe he was quite simply incapable of loving and accepting love. “I had thought if I was there for him he could learn to love me, but—” she shrugged refusing to look into Marissa’s eyes.
“There you are,” a deep voice rumbled from the doorway.
Cadence raised her eyes to see Curtis striding leisurely into the nursery. She wanted to smile, but found the muscles uncooperative in the face of her deepening despair.
“There is something very important I’ve been meaning to tell you.” He knelt before her and reached to tenderly pull a curl away from her face. “I love you.”
For a moment she froze. This was not a declaration she’d anticipated, hoped for yes, but not expected. She tore her eyes from his, trying to stand. “Please, Curtis, you don’t have to say anything you don’t mean. I know it’s just an act, I won’t try to hold you back.”
“No, oh, no.” His large hands pressed her back into the chair, staring hard into her eyes. “Cadence, you aren’t holding me back, you are my reason for living the only reason I’m moving forward. I cannot fathom why it is you love me, and I can’t believe I’ll ever deserve you, but God help me I do love you. I love you more than the air is clear or the sea is vast. I would die for you, Cadence, please believe me when I say that I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” He kissed each of her hands in turn. “We’re going to live happily ever after.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you make me believe in fairytales. You are my fairytale, Cadence, my princess, my queen, my angel,” he whispered. “Fairytales have happy endings. I love you,” he repeated pressing his lips to hers. “Forgive me.”
“I love you too,” she murmured, marveling at the speech. The guarded veil had dropped from his eyes and when he looked at her as though the world was right because of her presence, she believed it. “Curtis, there is nothing to forgive. But—” She brushed at the tears lingering in the corner of her eye. “I need for you to tell me what’s going on. I know you’re trying to protect me, but all of these secrets frighten me.”
He sighed, looking tired.
Marissa stood. “Cadence, why don’t you take him to your room so you two can talk in private.”
Nodding, Cadence led him from the nursery.
“I’m sorry for my outburst last night,” Curtis said quietly, slipping his fingers into hers. “I probably should have told you all of this a long time ago.”
“Better late than never.” She tried to smile encouragingly but the gesture felt weak.
The door to her guest room clicked behind them. He dropped her hand turning a slow circle about the room. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Just start at the beginning, Curtis, I’m not going anywhere. Never.”
“You say that now,” he sighed, crumpling against the wall. The faraway look glazed over his features and he stared down at his hands for a long while. “You know that I was only seventeen when I joined the Confederate Army.”
“Yes,” she said though it didn’t seem he heard or expected an answer.
“I left Charleston to enlist in a North Carolina regiment because everyone at home knew my friend Billy Cole and I weren’t old enough. Lieutenant Colonel Chandler Fielding, the man who murdered your father and Jim Holbrook, was our commanding officer. “I—I—” He swallowed hard, trembling. “I can’t… do th…this, Cadence.” He sank to the floor, all color drained from his face.
“Curtis,” she knelt before him her voice quiet, soothing, “you can tell me anything and I will always love you.”
“No,” he shook his head, “you don’t know what you’re saying, I’m a monster. You can’t love a monster.”
“Just tell me,” she whispered hands steady… calm… staid… “I think it’s time you let this go.”
He began slowly, haltingly again, “I have never been good at much of anything, but for whatever reason when it came to soldering I was good at it. I was good at strategy. I could see things in my head like troop movements and where batteries were laid out and just know how to counter maneuver. It was like chess and I could play out all the scenarios before they happened.” He looked to her with wounded eyes. “For the first time in my life I was good at something and actually recognized for it. I made Sergeant in all of six months, and for the most part I was utilized as a scout and strategist for some of the lesser known missions.”
He stopped, clinging to her hands as an anchor.
“It was July 1862. I was with a North Carolina regiment marching north.” Cadence sensed him drifting away… reliving another time. “I was patrolling our flank when we captured this Yankee scout and hauled him back to camp, Private Allan West. He was a young kid, couldn’t have been much older than me. We questioned him for hours, and that Yankee looked so damn scared, but he never told us anything, scared as he was, he never gave up a thing.” He shook his head, continuing slowly, “I thought we would turn him into the command station, but Colonel Fielding said that his unit did not harbor the enemy.”
Curtis paused, swallowing convulsively. Cadence squeezed his hands, grounding him.
“Colonel Fielding said that all Yankees stupid enough to be caught deserved to be executed. I informed him that he did not have the authority to execute pris
oners of war. He in turn informed me that in his regiment he was judge, jury and would appoint the executioner.”
“I was appointed the executioner. And—and, for the first time in my military service I refused an order.” He swallowed again. “Everyone said we were there to kill Yankees, but there is as big difference between killing the damn Yankees and laying unarmed men in their graves. I knew it too, but Fielding… Fielding said men could be shot for less than refusing orders, and the implication was more than clear. No one defied the colonel.”
His eyes squeezed closed, his voice the barest rasp. “God help me, Cadence, but I did it. I shot him. The colonel and I were arguing all of five paces from that Yankee, on his knees shaking so hard I could hear his teeth chattering… He stood up and lunged at me, so I shot him. It was like a reflex when I pulled the trigger, but it was all wrong.” His voice broke and his head fell forward to her shoulder. “It was nothing but murder.”
“No. No it wasn’t, it was an accident.”
“Shooting an unarmed man is not an accident. I could have subdued him some other way, half the regiment was watching, any of them could have grabbed him if given the chance. That boy never should have been on his knees with us threatening to shoot him in the first place.” Curtis met her gaze full on. “The truth is that Allan West was a better man than I could ever hope to be. He never begged or pleaded for his life, he looked me square in the eye knowing that I was going to shoot him, and he fought. I have hated myself every minute of every day since I pulled that trigger. Everyone said it was duty, that the Yankees shot our scouts. Even when I tried to turn myself in, the superiors said that.”
“Oh, Curtis,” she breathed, clutching him as he lay trembling against her shoulder.
“There’s more,” he choked.
Oh God, she managed not to say aloud.
“After the incident with West I got really reckless and Billy—who was my best friend and who I loved like a brother—was always trying to keep me out of trouble. One night we went out to burn a Yankee railroad bridge, and Billy was shot by a sentry shoving me out of the line of fire. It should have been me, and I am such a damn coward I still haven’t spoken to his mother.”
Cadence (Langston Brothers Series) Page 22