Midnight Fire

by Linda Ladd

  Instead, he felt sick to his stomach, and curiously empty. He only wanted war and rebellion to stop. He wanted to live his life and serve his country in peace. He wanted to forget Perez and everything that had happened. More than anything, he wanted to be happy with Carlisle, to eagerly await their baby with her as other husbands and wives did. But could he? Oh, God, could he?

  During the month of November, Carlisle settled into a pleasant daily routine. Time seemed to help Chase, that and perhaps the fact that the men who'd tortured him had been punished. Generally she tried not to think of San Miguel or her days there with the Perezes. Instead, she began to prepare for the baby's birth, genuinely enjoying sewing the tiny clothes and bonnets.

  One day in early December, as she busied herself folding fluffy baby blankets and soft infant sacques, she stopped to admire the room they'd chosen for the nursery. She walked to the new white wicker cradle, where Dona Maria had hung the long christening gown that the baby would wear when baptized. Carlisle ran her fingertips over the old, fragile lace, smiling to think that her big, six foot three husband had once been small enough to fit into the tiny garment.

  From the table beside the bed, she picked up an ivory music box. The tinkling melody reminded her of the ball she'd attended in New Orleans on Gray and Tyler's wedding day. An eternity ago, it seemed. How silly and immature she'd been, pretending she didn't find Chase attractive. She felt as if she'd been a mere child then, though it had not yet been a year ago. Now she was a woman expecting her firstborn child.

  "Carly? What are you doing?"

  As always, her heart leapt at the sound of Chase's voice. Her smile was eager and full of welcome.

  "Hola, Chaso. Buenos diás."

  Chase's grin carved the familiar, beloved grooves in his lean cheeks. "You have learned our language well, querida."

  Carlisle was pleased by the warmth in his eyes and the endearment he'd used. But was she really his beloved?

  "I have a surprise for you," he said, and Carlisle was flooded with silent delight that his mood was so light. He was hiding something behind his back.

  "What? Tell me."

  Grinning, he brought out a bundle of envelopes. "Letters from Tyler and Gray."

  "Chase, really? Quick, give them to me!"

  "They've been at the hacienda all this time," he explained as he handed them to her. "No one thought to send them until now."

  "I've been so worried about everyone at home," Carlisle began, hugging the precious letters close to her breast. But Chase only laughed and pulled her close. Instantly and without reservation, Carlisle forgot all about the long-awaited correspondence, enjoying Chase's thorough exploration of her lips. She didn't think coherently again until the warmth of his mouth caressed her temple, muffling his words.

  "You looked so beautiful when I came in a moment ago. Like an angel—"

  She felt him tense slightly, and she knew he had thought of Esteban's painting. Before he could remember and pull away from her, she took his hand and eagerly led him to the chair in front of the window.

  "Let's read them together, Chase! Look, one's from Chicago!"

  Chase stood behind her as she sat down, excitedly tearing open the first letter.

  "It's dated November." She flipped over to the last page. "And it's from Tyler." She began to read. "'I am writing with the most splendid news. I am expecting a baby in the spring.'" Carlisle raised her face to Chase, her eyes shining. "Can you believe it, Chase? Tyler's to have a baby, too. Isn't that wonderful?"

  "Sí. It's good she sounds so happy about it. What else does she say?"

  Carlisle immediately returned to Tyler's childlike handwriting. "'Gray and I are very pleased about the impending birth, and, Carly, I am so incredibly happy. Gray is the most wonderful man alive.'"

  "She seems to have adjusted well enough to her marriage, just like I told you she would," Chase interjected. "I guess Gray and I didn't make such a bad decision after all."

  Carlisle nodded, in complete agreement with his assessment, then resumed reading. "'I'm afraid, dear Carly, that I also have a few pieces of unpleasant news for you. We had a fire here in Chicago on October 8 that destroyed thousands of buildings—though, thankfully, ours was spared. But before I tell you the next thing, I urge you not to blame yourself. Both Gray and I understand that you had the very best motives. Of course, you had no way of knowing your letter would cause such problems for us.'"

  "What letter?" Chase asked, frowning. "What the devil did you do, Carly?"

  Carlisle frowned, quickly skimming over the next few paragraphs without reading the words aloud. Her heart sank lower with every word Tyler had penned.

  "What's happened?" Chase demanded, leaning forward to look over her shoulder.

  Stricken, Carlisle could not hide her guilty conscience. "Oh, Chase, I didn't dream anything like this could happen!"

  "Dios, Carly, tell me what you're talking about!"

  Carlisle handed him the letter, unable to look at him while he read it.

  "Tyler thinks you wrote a letter to a man named Emerson Clan, summoning him to Chicago. Did you?"

  "Yes," Carlisle admitted miserably. "I did it to help Stone, but I never thought anyone would get hurt "

  Chase sat down and put his arm around her. "All right, tell me exactly what happened."

  Filled with remorse, Carlisle bit her lip. "Stone is my other brother, the one you haven't met. During the war, he was captured and sent to a prison camp in Andersonville, Georgia, because a man named Emerson Clan betrayed him. Ever since the end of the war, Stone's been obsessed with finding him."

  Her voice broke slightly. "I only meant to help him, so when Tyler told me how your father tricked a man into coming to him in one of his swindles, I tried to do the same thing. I wrote a letter to Clan's cousin in Alabama. I told him that Clan's uncle had died in Chicago and left Emerson Clan money, but that he had to go there to collect it. You see, I thought if he went to Chicago, Stone would be able to capture him. And it worked, except that after Stone had him arrested, he escaped from jail during the big fire. He kidnapped Tyler, Chase! And Gray was shot when he and Stone tried to rescue her. Oh, Chase, what if Gray had been killed?"

  "Tyler says Gray's fine now. When did you send the letter, Carly?"

  "Javier drafted it for me on the Mayan," Carlisle admitted reluctantly.

  Chase tensed at the name, but he didn't appear to be angry. "Well, it's over now, and everyone's all right."

  "But don't you see? It's all my fault."

  "It sounds to me as if Gray and Tyler have already forgiven you."

  "And what about you, Chase?" she asked quietly. "Will you ever forget I was the one who caused Esteban's death? Will you ever love me the way you used to?"

  Chase froze, as he always did when she brought up the subject. At length, he answered.

  "I don't think I can ever forget it, Carly."

  Deep inside Carlisle, something gave way. She felt as if she couldn't bear to face a lifetime like this—never knowing from one minute to the next whether Chase would treat her lovingly or withdraw into cold, bitter silence and condemnation.

  "I want to go home," she said thickly, "to Chicago, where people love me and won't keep punishing me like you do."

  Chase's face went white with anger. "No. I forbid it."

  "I won't stay here. I can't bear to be held and kissed one minute and hated the next! I can't stand it, I tell you!"

  "After the baby is born, you can go wherever you damn well please. But my child stays here in Mexico with me, comprendes?"

  Carlisle watched him stalk from the room. With trembling hands, she realized he could do anything he wanted with her and the baby. Perhaps that was the only reason he had married her—to keep her at the Casa Amarilla until the baby was born, then get rid of her. He'd said as much, she thought in horror, and he'd said the same thing when he'd first come to Mexico City and learned she carried his child. "I suppose I'll have to tolerate your presence here, at leas
t until the baby is born," had been his exact words the night he'd agreed to marry her. She hadn't wanted to believe him then, but now she did. Carlisle's face drained of color, because nothing had ever frightened her as much as his icily uttered threat to take her baby from her.

  Lovingly, Dona Maria took her elder son's engraved silver baby cup out of its black velvet case and placed it carefully on the crocheted doily she'd laid across the nursery bureau. Smiling, absorbed with many fond memories of both her sons, she laid the exquisitely designed miniature silver comb and brush alongside the cup.

  Soon, she'd once again brush silken curls atop a tiny head and rock her grandchild in the heavy mahogany rocker which Morelos mothers had used to lull their babies for generations.

  The heirloom rocking chair had been brought down from the attic the day before. Now Dona Maria seated herself in it, listening to the familiar creak as she rocked to and fro. She had spent many hours in such fashion with Tomas in her arms, humming lullabies and comforting him when he cried. In a few months Carlita would have the same pleasure, a joy a mother would cherish long after her children were grown.

  She picked up her knitting needles, and soon they were clicking rhythmically together as the white yarn began to take the shape of a tiny bootie. Of late, her thoughts had been full of Chaso and his beautiful gringa wife. If only they could be happy together! They were so fortunate to love each other so passionately.

  Carlisle, bless her, admitted her feelings openly, but Chaso remained infuriatingly silent and unyielding. She knew him so well that she found it easy to see how much he loved his wife. Was his grief still so painful that he could not forgive poor Carlita? Or was his attitude merely stubborn pride? The baby's birth would make all the difference in their troubled marriage. She truly believed that. The child would heal the terrible breach between them.

  For long hours, she'd prayed on her knees before the altar in her room, said countless rosaries and Hail Marys for a total reconciliation between Chaso and Carlita. The Holy Virgin would hear her entreaties and touch Chaso's heart with forgiveness. Suddenly impassioned by that hope, she raised the rosary tucked into her belt and pressed it to her lips.

  "Dona Maria?"

  Opening her eyes, she found the object of her prayer standing before her. Carlita's lovely green eyes were red from weeping, her face sober and determined.

  "Forgive me for interrupting your prayers, but I must talk with you. Por favor, it's very important."

  "Of course. Carlita, you look so very tired. Are you feeling ill again?"

  "No."

  Carlita sat down on a chair a few feet away. When she remained silent, Dona Maria endeavored to help her.

  "Is Chaso angry with you again, Carlita?"

  Carlita nodded slightly, and Dona Maria frowned. “Oh, men can be so foolish!"

  When her daughter-in-law did not answer, Dona Maria tried to cheer her. "Your niño will make your marriage strong."

  Slowly, Carlita turned her face toward the window until her finely chiseled profile was outlined against the white wall.

  "I must have your help, Dona Maria. I'm very sorry to have to ask you, but I have no choice."

  Alarm clamored like a bell inside Dona Maria's breast. "You are like my own daughter. I'll help you in whatever way I can."

  Carlita looked at her, and again Dona Maria sensed her resolve.

  "Will you help me even if it entails going against your own son's wishes?"

  Startled, Dona Maria shook her head. "I could not interfere in such a way, Carlita, you must know that. But if you tell me what has gone amiss between the two of you, I will gladly speak to Chaso on your behalf."

  Carlita's smile became cold, cynical in a way Dona Maria had not seen before.

  "Everything is amiss. Everything will always be amiss because Chase cannot forgive me." She suddenly leaned her head back against the chair, as if too tired to hold it up. "And I cannot stand the strain of it any longer. I have tried very hard, but I cannot continue living this way."

  "But the niño will bring you back into Chaso's heart!"

  "I'm not sure I want that anymore. Today Chase told me that after my baby is born, I can go anywhere I want, but the child would stay here with him."

  "He must have been angry, Carlita. My son could not be so cruel."

  For the first time Carlita became agitated. Her hands clenched tightly over the carved arms of the chair. "Yes, he can. He can be very cruel. Esteban's death changed him. It changed all of us."

  Her voice faltered slightly, but she did not weep. Instead, her face grew even more unwavering. She lifted her chin.

  "I am going home to America, where Chase can never take my child away from me. If he truly loves me, if he ever forgives me, then he can come there and tell me so."

  At first, Dona Maria was so horrified by Carlita's pronouncement that she could not utter a word.

  "You cannot believe my son would take the baby from you," she whispered at last.

  "I will not take that chance. My baby's all I have left. Surely you understand that."

  "Of course I understand," Dona Maria answered gently. "But you mustn't ask me to help you steal a child away from his father. It's against the laws of God."

  Carlita smiled sadly. "You did it yourself, Dona Maria."

  Stunned, Dona Maria stared at her, and Carlita's voice softened. "You took Chase away from Burl Lancaster."

  "But Chaso is nothing like his father was. Burl was a thief, a swindler who would have made his son the same . . ."

  Her words petered out as she thought of those terrible, haunting days when she had struggled with the same decision Carlita was contemplating. She had loved Burl to distraction, but she had not wanted to remain with him and watch their love decay. Her heart twisted.

  "But don't you see what you're asking? You want me to give up my own grandchild. I've waited so long—" She stopped, her throat clogged.

  Carlita got up and knelt in front of her, holding both her hands. "I would never do that. You know how much l've grown to love you. I never knew my own mother, and no one could have been kinder to me than you have been. But if I wait here until the baby is born, I'll never be able to go home again. Chase has already forbidden it."

  She continued, her voice more urgent. "What if Burl had not allowed you to take his son home with you—even for a visit? Could you have gone away and left Chase behind?"

  Ashen-faced, Dona Maria stared at Carlita. "No," she whispered. "Never."

  "Then please help me, I beg you. Arrange for me to travel to Veracruz and take passage to New Orleans. I swear to the Holy Virgin that I'll never keep my child away from Chase. Surely you know that I'd give my life to make him love me the way he used to, but I can't." Carlisle bit her lip, tears coming to her eyes. Overcome by sorrow, she lay her head in Dona Maria's lap and sobbed.

  Dona Maria stroked Carlita's soft hair, her heart aching.

  "Don't cry, Carlita," she whispered. "Together, we will find a way for you to go home."

  Dona Maria kept her promise, and just over a week later, Carlisle stood on a windy seaside quay with Dona Maria and Tomas. Chase thought they were visiting his aunt's house in the city of Puebla, but instead they had traveled on to Veracruz, where the Yankee steamer, Sentinel, lay at anchor in the harbor. The ship was now being loaded with cargo for its homeward trip to the United States. Tomas had already bought her ticket to New Orleans, and now all that was left were their good-byes. She looked at her mother-in-law, emotion roughening her voice.

  "Gracias, Dona Maria. I'll never forget what you're doing for me."

  Dona Maria shook her head, embracing Carlisle tightly. "Oh, my hija, I will miss you dreadfully. I'm so afraid I'm doing the wrong thing to let you leave Chaso like this. He loves you so much. I know he does."

  "I must go. I have no other choice." She looked up past the flat-topped buildings of the city to the mountains beyond. "It is very hard for me to leave Mexico." Her voice lowered. "I've grown to love your country
as much as I love your son."

  Dona Maria withdrew her handkerchief and wiped her tears.

  "You'll write and tell me when the baby's born, won't you?" she asked, patting Carlisle's back. "And you must remember to be careful while you're aboard the ship. Please don't go out on the decks in rough weather or you might fall. Juana," she said, turning to the young girl who stood a few steps away, "you must take good care of Carlita, promise me?"

  "Sí, senora."

  Dona Maria hugged Carlisle again as the bell on the passenger launch rang. She extended a small box she had been holding in her arm.

  "Here, niña, these are for the baby. It's some clothes I made for him, and a few shawls and blankets. Chicago is very cold, no?"

  "Sí. Gracias. I'll treasure them. Oh, Mama, I'll miss you!" Carlisle cried as they embraced again.

  A sob escaped Dona Maria as she turned and hurried back to the coach, and Carlisle's own tears began to fall.

  Tomas had been standing a little way apart from them, and he came close now, handing Carlisle his handkerchief. She wiped her eyes with it.

  "Tomas, I'll miss you, too, very much. I'll never forget you and all you've done for me."

  "I'm afraid I will never see you again," Tomas said, his eyes so forlorn that Carlisle swallowed hard. She feared the same thing, but she tried to smile.

  "You could always come to America to visit me. You and your mother both."

  "I think Chaso is loco."

  Carlisle hugged him tightly. "I'm going to write to you, Tomas. You'll answer my letters, won't you?"

  "Sí," he answered, his own eyes growing misty. "Adios, Carlita."

  Carlisle walked down to the boat with Juana and was assisted inside by one of the uniformed sailors. She sat down, tears burning her eyes. As she lifted her hand and waved to Dona Maria and Tomas, who stood beside their carriage, she felt as if she were leaving her whole life behind her. And she was, because she was leaving Chase.

  Two days before Christmas, Chase rode his horse down the road to Puebla. His journey had been long and tiring, but now that he could see the slender spires of the cathedral, he knew his destination was at hand. His grandfather's great hacienda outside Puebla was a beautiful, peaceful place, and he meant to spend Christmas Day there with Carlisle. It had been nearly two weeks since his mother had taken Carly and Tomas to visit his tía Isabella. When they'd left, he'd told Carlisle not to be gone longer than a week, and to his annoyance, he hadn't heard a word from her since that day.